My Journey to You
by amber2011
Summary: Mercedes moves to a new town with her daughter Abby for a fresh start after a tragedy befalls her family in Lima. She rents an apartment from Sam in an old house he's renovating. She and Sam slowly fumble toward a relationship
1. Chapter 1

**_CHAPTER 1_**

**_SUMMARY - _** Mercedes moves to a new town for a fresh start after a tragedy befalls her in Lima. She rents an apartment from Sam in an old house he's renovating. She and Sam slowly become friends and perhaps something more while dealing with their issues.

**_RATING_** – Mature

**_WARNING _**– Mild cursing, depressing themes, description of violent event

* * *

><p><strong><em>NEW BEGINNINGS<em>**

"So what do you think, Abby?" Mercedes said to her daughter as they drove up to the old two-story Victorian style house with gingerbread trimming, a turret roof and peeling blue paint. "You think you might like living here?"

Abby looked up at her mother and shook her head. Then she got out her pink notepad and wrote a note, holding it up for her to see. Mercedes read it out loud:

_I want to go home._

Mercedes sighed and turned off the engine, shaking her head. How could she make this child understand that home wasn't home anymore? The 8-year old girl was as stubborn as her father, hell bent on getting her way.

"Don't be like that," Mercedes said, "Let's look at the apartment anyway."

Abby folded her arms and looked away from her mother. Mercedes touched her daughter's curly Afro, patting it down gently.

"Staying in Lima won't bring him back," she said.

Abby stared down at her hands, ignoring Mercedes' touch; she kept shaking her head and soon the tears came. Then she wrote another note.

_Daddy is in Lima_

Mercedes decided not to argue and let her cry for few more minutes before unlocking the car door and getting out with Abby sulking behind her, dragging her feet against the frozen, dead grass. The house looked like it needed some repairs, but it held a certain charm, or maybe she liked it because it was cheap. They walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. It was a cold, bleak day, with gray skies and biting cold that seep through their heavy winter coats. Mercedes reached down and fixed Abby's multicolored scarf, securing it around her neck; she was getting over a bad cold and would hate to see her get sick again. They waited and no one came to the door, so she rang the doorbell again. This time she heard footsteps and the door finally opened. A handsome man with thick lips and floppy blond hair stood before them smiling, his green eyes animated. He wore a paint splattered plaid shirt and faded jeans.

"Are you Mercedes?"

"Yes, we spoke on the phone earlier, and you're Sam?"

"Right, come on in. I'll show you the apartment upstairs. Sorry for the mess but I'm trying to get my den painted."

"That's ok."

Sam pointed to Abby.

"And who are you, little lady?"

Abby stared at the ground. Mercedes put a protective arm around her.

"This is my daughter Abby."

Sam looked at them for a moment, and then opened the door wider letting them inside. They stood in a dimly lit hallway at the bottom of the stairs.

"Follow me," he said, walking up the creaking stairs. The air smelled like burning candles and polished wood. The walls were painted a soft yellow. When they got to the top of the stairs, Sam fished around in his pockets and pulled out the keys.

"Hope you like it," he said, as he unlocked the door.

Once they were inside, Mercedes was pleased to see that it was actually a nice little apartment. Sam gave them a brief tour.

"Like I said, it's furnished. I got most of it from Ikea, but it's decent."

Mercedes walked around the living room, lightly touching the blue couch and loveseat and admired the glass coffee table. Blue lace curtains hung in the window. Abby went to the window and stared outside.

"The view is nice too," Sam said, walking over to where Abby stood, "You get to see the woods, and that over there," he said pointing to a large oak tree, "is my favorite tree."

Abby moved away from the window.

"She's shy," Mercedes said.

Sam smiled and showed them the two bedrooms.

Each room was modestly furnished. The smaller bedroom had a twin bed, but the master bedroom had a queen-sized bed. The bathroom was bright blue with an old-fashioned tub with gold claw feet.

"I couldn't part with the tub, and it doubles as a shower," he said, pointing to the showerhead.

"And where's the half bathroom?" Mercedes asked.

"Oops, I forgot to show you, it's right near the front door."

"I thought that was a closet."

"Yeah most people do."

He took them to the kitchen that also had a laundry closet with a stackable washer and dryer, marble countertops and brand new stainless steel appliances.

Mercedes leaned against the counter as Sam stood watching her from the doorway.

"Are you taking it?"

Mercedes smiled.

"I'll take it."

Abby stood in the middle of the kitchen, shaking her head. She wrote a note, handing it to Mercedes.

_Take me home._

Sam looked at them confused. Mercedes shoved the note into her pocket.

"Abby, we'll talk about this later."

"You can move in any time you want"

"How about Friday?"

"Works for me."

"Good, I'll see you then."

Mercedes took Abby by the hand and walked out of the kitchen, as they made their way to the front door, Abby pointed to the half bathroom.

"Ok," Mercedes said.

She unzipped Abby's coat and unwound her scarf as her daughter waited patiently. Mercedes looked down into Abby's mocha-brown face and saw her father's eyes staring back at her. Memories of him haunted her at every turn and it didn't help that Abby was such a tomboy. On that particular day, she wore denim overalls, a bright red sweater and a tool belt with screwdrivers and a small hammer hung around her waist.

"That's a cool belt," Sam said.

Abby ignored him and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Mercedes sat down on the couch. She knew Abby was in the bathroom crying and the thought made her cry too. She couldn't take away her baby's tears no matter how hard she tried. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed for the first time in days. Sam sat down beside her.

"Are you ok?"

Mercedes continued to cry, feeling embarrassed at her outburst, but everything was too much. Sam put his arm around her.

"It's alright," he soothed.

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about."

Quickly, she stood up, wiping her face with her hands. Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a few Pizza Hut napkins.

"Leftover from lunch," he said, handing them to her.

Mercedes laughed, it was such an odd thing to do, helping a damsel in distress with fast food napkins, but nothing about her life had ever been normal.

"Thanks."

"How about some hot cocoa?"

Mercedes wiped her cheeks. Normally, she would've said no, but right now, a hot drink on a cold, dismal day sounded wonderful.

"Ok."

The bathroom door creaked open and Abby stood there with puffy red eyes and a solemn expression.

"Abby, we're going downstairs for some hot cocoa," Mercedes said.

Abby nodded and Mercedes took her hand. Together they walked down the stairs with Sam behind them. At the bottom of the stairs they followed Sam down a long hallway and made a right, where his apartment was located; he unlocked his door and apologized profusely for his messy home.

"I'm a lousy housekeeper, trying to get better though."

Mercedes looked around at the stacks of cardboard boxes and dusty furniture. It appeared he hadn't unpacked all of his belongings and Mercedes wondered why. A few framed posters for a place called the Golly Wow Tea Shop were propped against the walls. One of the posters was a blown up newspaper article with a picture of Sam and a pretty blonde woman, their arms wrapped around each other. The headline read: Golly Wow Tea Shop Opens in Bethel Rock. Two tabby cats were curled up on the floral printed couch. They looked up at Mercedes, and yawned then promptly went back to sleep.

"That's George and Gracie," Sam said, "Come on, I cleaned my kitchen this morning."

The kitchen was spotless. The bright yellow stove shined, the kitchen table was polished and even the white-tiled floor looked freshly waxed. Sam pulled out a chair for each of them.

"Take a load off," he said, "Do you guys want marshmallows?"

"We'll take it plain," Mercedes said, "How long have you lived here?"

Sam opened the cupboard and pulled out several silver canisters and three black mugs, placing them on the counter.

"About a month," he said and went to the fridge and took out a gallon of milk, "Do you want dark or milk chocolate, or maybe salted caramel?"

"What is this? Starbucks?" Mercedes teased, "Just plain old hot chocolate."

Sam smiled and poured the milk into a pot on the stove, and turned on the burner.

"I like a variety."

"You did a great job with the apartment upstairs," Mercedes said, trying to make conversation; she felt vulnerable and exposed. Just a few moments ago she was sobbing in front of this man and now he was making her cocoa.

"Thanks, I tried to keep it simple."

Abby wrote Mercedes a note and slid it across the table.

_I want to pet the cats_

"Is it ok if she pets your cats?"

"Sure."

Abby left the kitchen and went into the living room, leaving Mercedes and Sam alone.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Sam asked her as he stirred the milk.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry for breaking down like that. I just… I don't know."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I want to escape."

Sam nodded.

"I know the feeling."

Mercedes took off her coat and scarf since the kitchen was so warm and cozy. Sam opened the cupboard again and took out a small jar filled with fine, red threads. He took a few threads out and crushed them between two spoons and then put the red powder into one of the mugs.

"What's that?" Mercedes asked.

"Saffron. I like it in my cocoa."

"That's different."

He put the cocoa powder into each cup and then filled them with the milk, stirring them carefully. He took the mugs and sat them on the table.

"Here you are."

"Abby!" Mercedes called out, "The cocoa is ready."

Abby came into the kitchen, picked up a mug, and pointed to the living room.

"Ok," Mercedes said, kissing Abby's forehead, "You can sit with the cats, just be careful."

"I guess they won her over," Sam said once Abby was gone again.

"She loves animals."

"Well, she can come by anytime if she wants to visit them."

Mercedes smiled and sipped her cocoa. It was the best she had ever tasted in her life.

"This is delicious; I know it's not Swiss Miss," she said.

Sam laughed.

"No, we used to sell it in our shop. My special blend."

"You're not in business any more?"

"I'm going in a new direction," Sam said, his eyes looked sad for a moment, and Mercedes changed the subject.

"Bethel Rock seems like a nice town."

"It is," he paused and stared at her for a second then said, "I think you'll like it."

They sat in a comfortable silence, reserved for people who had known each other for years as opposed to a few hours like she and Sam; which puzzled her but she didn't think about it too hard; instead she enjoyed the peaceful stillness surrounding them. After a while, Abby came into the kitchen and put her empty mug in the sink. Just as she walked away, one of the hinges on the cupboard door underneath the sink came loose and the door hung precariously like a crooked painting. Abby sat on the floor, took her screwdriver off of her tool belt and began screwing the hinge back in place.

"Oh, Abby you don't have to –" Sam began to say, but Mercedes put her hand on his arm, leaning over she whispered in his ear:

"Let her do it. Please."

Sam nodded and watched Abby fix the hinge in a matter of minutes. When she was done, she got up, and looked over at him, waiting for his reaction. Mercedes spoke first.

"That was very nice of you sweetie, you did a good job."

"Yes, thank you," Sam said, "I should hire you as my handyman."

Abby didn't smile. She merely nodded her head and went back into the living room.

Mercedes finished her hot cocoa.

"It's getting late. We should go," she said as she stood up. Then Sam reached for her hand.

"I'm here if you ever need to talk."

"Thank you."

He gazed at her for a moment before releasing her hand. Mercedes fumbled with her coat, and Sam helped her put it on. Some down feathers from the coat drifted into the air.

"Hiding something?" Sam said with a half-smile.

Mercedes chuckled as she put on her gloves.

"It's down."

"Yeah," he said, catching a few feathers and handing them to her.

Once Abby was bundled up, Sam walked them to the car. The air felt colder than before and Mercedes shivered.

"Are you sure you're ok to drive?" Sam asked.

Mercedes narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not drunk."

"No, I mean... I don't know."

She laid her hand on his arm.

"I've been through worse."

**ooo**

Mercedes was still getting used to the pot-hole filled roads of Bethel Rock, Tennessee, as she drove back to their rooming house where they've been staying for the last two weeks, she cursed under her breath every time her tires dipped into the holes. By the time they got to the Christian Woman's Society home on Main Street next to Bud's Pharmacy and across the street from the local firehouse, Mercedes was exhausted and only wanted to take a bath, eat some take-out and go to bed. When she first arrived to Bethel Rock, she was surprised that women-only boarding houses still existed but in this backwards town nothing should surprise her. She and Abby stayed in a double room and had their own bathroom. They shared the common living areas downstairs with 4 other women. Mercedes mostly kept to herself; she wasn't in the mood to make friends. She parked the car in the parking lot behind the boardinghouse and roused a sleeping Abby from her slumber.

"We're back," Mercedes whispered in her ear.

Abby whined and opened her eyes, a slight grimace on her face. When she looked all sleepy and drowsy, it always reminded Mercedes of when she was a baby and Abby would pitch a fit when she was awakened during her naps. Upon entering the house, the smell of meatloaf and mashed potatoes greeted them, and Mercedes' stomach growled. For a second, she wished that whomever, was cooking would offer some to her and Abby, it had been a while since they had a home-cooked meal, but that would soon change. The house was decorated with antique furniture and knickknacks. The walls were covered with floral wallpaper and Bible scriptures were embroidered on fancy silk pillows in the parlor where an ancient TV sat on top of a dusty chest with board games like checkers and Parcheesi stacked beside it. They went upstairs to their room and Mercedes ordered Chinese food while Abby took a bath. As she waited for the food to arrive, she called her Aunt Josephine.

"Fine time to call," Aunt Josephine said in her scolding tone, "You know I worry about you."

"Sorry Aunt Jo," Mercedes said, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling, "I've been busy."

"Have you found a job?"

"Not yet."

"How's Abby?"

"The same."

"She'll talk when she's ready."

Mercedes blinked away the tears that formed in her eyes.

"I've got her some new notepads."

"Where you living now?"

"We're moving into an apartment on Friday."

"Praise be! I'm not a fan of those boarding houses"

"This one is nice," Mercedes said, feeling defensive."

"Humph, if you say so. You had a perfectly nice home here, then you run off –"

"Not now, Aunt Jo."

"Listen, gal, I love you and Abby more than anything. But you're wrong. Come back home."

Mercedes lost her resolve to be civil.

"It's not home any more. I need this."

"You need to get your behind to church and ask Jesus for guidance instead of gallivanting to some strange town away from those who love you. Abby needs – "

"Abby needs a new start. And so do I. I have to go. I'll call you soon."

Mercedes hung up before her Aunt Josephine could say anything else.

**ooo**

Sam lied on his bed eating microwave popcorn with George and Gracie curled up beside him. His room looked like a cyclone hit it with clothes strewn about and unopened mail piled on his nightstand. He picked up the remote control from off the floor and turned on the TV and decided to watch an old black and white movie about a treasure hunt. His mind wandered and he thought about Mercedes and her mute daughter. He wondered why she wouldn't talk. Mercedes and Abby carried so much sadness that it broke his heart. Quite a few people had come to see the apartment, but Mercedes was the first person that he actually wanted to rent it to. Everyone else was either crazy or just too weird.

Mercedes was neither. She had a quiet grace and dignity about her, a subtle beauty that intrigued him. How she readily accepted his offer to talk made him think she was alone too, and his protective instincts kicked in. Yes they were strangers, but Sam's intuition had never steered him wrong. He finished off the popcorn and opened up a beer. It would be nice to have someone living in the apartment above him. It got mighty lonely in that house; he didn't know if he and Mercedes would be friends, but he hoped so. He drank another beer and soon felt his eyelids grow heavy. After doing repairs all day, he was bone-tired. The work kept him sane after his god-awful divorce. Just then his cell phone rang, it was his ex-wife Quinn.

"You sound drunk," she said when he answered the phone, "I need to come over."

"I'm busy."

"Busy fixing up that dump?"

Sam sucked in his teeth.

"What do you want?"

"I've got something important to tell you."

"Why can't you do it over the phone?"

"I just can't."

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"Why can't I come over?"

"I'm tired and had a long day."

"Sam…" she said, in that whiny voice she got when she didn't get her way, "It won't take long."

Sam knew he couldn't win with Quinn even if he tried.

"Ok, come over."

"Thanks."

Sam shook his head, and stared at the phone before leaning back and closing his eyes in frustration. Quinn showed up about an hour later. She didn't bother ringing the doorbell; she simply used her key and let herself into the house, when Sam heard the front door open, he got out of bed, dragging himself down the hall, to find Quinn standing in the foyer, wearing a pink pastel wool coat. Diamond earrings dangled from her ears; and her lips were red as apples. Sam looked at her classically beautiful face with her pretty blue eyes, pert nose, and rosy cheeks, and knew beneath all that beauty was a broken woman.

"You look pretty," he heard himself saying.

Quinn walked over to him, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She kissed his cheek.

"Aren't you sweet."

"If you say so."

"Are you screwing that waitress from Mel's Diner?"

Sam's mouth fell open in shock.

"What?"

She ran her hands through her long blonde hair and folded her arms.

"I saw you the other day –"

"You were spying on me?"

"No, I happened to be downtown and –"

Sam cut her off.

"You're never downtown"

Quinn looped her arm through his.

"Do you have any tea?"

"You didn't come here to drink tea."

"So you're not sleeping with her?"

"Damn it, Quinn, I don't even know what you're talking about. What do you want anyway?"

Quinn went into the kitchen and began looking through his cupboards until she found the a box of tea with her picture on the front with the words Quinn's Blend written in flowery script across the bottom.

"Ah, you have my Earl Grey blend," she said, "Where's the kettle?"

"It wasn't _your blend_. I added stuff to it."

Quinn took off her coat and hung it on the back of the chair. She wore a vintage yellow lace dress that clung to her hourglass shape and reminded Sam of Easter Sunday.

"It wasn't called _Sam's Blend_, now was it… The kettle?"

"Under the sink."

She filled the copper kettle and set it on the stove; turning to Sam, she said:

"I'm getting married next week."

"Congratulations."

Quinn stared at him, her cool demeanor faltered a bit.

"I wasn't expecting that."

Sam didn't say anything. He sat down to the table.

"Anything else you want to share?"

"This is your reaction?"

"Apparently."

"Don't you care who it is?"

"No."

"It's Will Schuester."

"That old fuck?"

"He's not that old."

"Whatever you say."

Quinn sat down beside him.

"I love him. He protects me."

"From yourself?"

"Everything. I'm excited. It's going to be at Daddy's hotel and we'll have silver white cupcakes and champagne. I even got a harpist. We're writing our own vows, which makes it more real, don't you think? Writing what's in your heart …"

The teakettle whistled. Quinn got up and poured the hot water into the mug sitting on the counter. She dropped in two teabags and sat down again.

"You're awfully quiet."

"There's nothing to say."

"Will's taking me on a safari."

Sam sighed. He wanted Quinn to leave. Her inane chatter hurt his head. The thought of her marrying Will Schuester turned his stomach, but that was her cross to bear. The guy was twice her age, and had a slimy way about him.

"I can't picture you on an elephant."

Quinn giggled and sipped her tea. She scooted her chair a little closer so that their shoulders touched.

"I want you to forgive me."

Sam didn't answer her; he shrugged his shoulders and stared at the clock on the opposite wall, watching the minute hand tick away; she always wanted something. It unnerved him.

"Go to the living room and get those shop posters. I don't want them."

"But I thought you wanted – "

"Why would you think that?" Sam said, standing up and looking down at her, "You can take that tea too, don't know why I had it. And give me your house key, no reason for you to have it," he said ignoring the tears he saw forming in her eyes; Quinn's crocodile tears were about as real as fool's good and worth just as much. She wiped her tears away with a lace monogrammed handkerchief, reached into her purse and handed him the key, and then she leaned back in the chair, resting her hand protectively on her stomach and patting it a little. Sam stared at her.

"So that's it," he said pointing to her stomach, "You're pregnant."

Quinn looked away from him.

"I didn't know how to tell you. I found out a few days ago."

"Good-bye, Quinn."

"Sam, come on, I came because, I don't know, when I thought you were seeing someone… it's stupid, I know my reasons are stupid, but you know I –"

"Were you really going to tell me you were pregnant if I hadn't figured it out?"

"Yes."

Sam wanted to believe her; in his heart, he wanted to dance with her one more time, make love one more time, give her everything she ever desired… but that was before it fell apart.

"I believe you. I still think Will is a prick."

Quinn stood up and hugged him.

"I worry about you."

"I'm fine."

"You're alone."

"I've got George and Gracie," he whispered into her hair; Quinn always smelled like lilacs and tonight was no different.

"You know what I mean," she said, holding on to him, "I am sorry."

Sam pulled away from her.

"Me too."

"Why'd you buy this dump?"

"Why not?"

"You know," she said as she put on her coat, "You can come to the wedding."

"Goodnight, Quinn," he said and left her standing in the kitchen.

* * *

><p><strong>LIKE FREUD SAID<strong>

The next day after feeding the cats and painting the ceiling in his spare bathroom; Sam went online to Skype with his therapist Artie. As usual, Artie was brutally honest.

"She's moved on," Artie said, his glasses falling on the bridge of his nose, "Dude you should be grateful."

"Why?"

"Let her fuck up somebody's else's life."

"I couldn't give her a baby."

"I know."

"What good am I?"

"Judging from the traffic to your match dot com ad, pretty damn spectacular.

"Artie, be serious."

"I am. If I wasn't married I'd be hitting those chicks left and right, know what I'm saying?

"You would."

"Sam, the past can't control your present. Besides your self-worth shouldn't be measured by this medical problem."

"Sometimes I dream that we're married and she's pregnant with triplets."

"You have to let go."

Sam understood but it wasn't enough to stop the pain.

* * *

><p><strong><em>MOVING DAY<em>**

It snowed the day Mercedes moved into the apartment. She and Abby didn't have many belongings. When they left Lima, she really wanted a fresh start, so it made no sense to bring a lot of memories; she left most of their things with Aunt Josephine, and only packed the bare essentials. Sam greeted them with his easy going smile and insisted on carrying most of the boxes. Abby kept herself occupied with his cats George and Gracie, while Sam and Mercedes trudged up and down the stairs, unloading the car. They were finished in about an hour. Sitting down on the couch, Mercedes let out a long sigh. Sam sat down beside her, his cheeks flushed pink, and he smelled like the outdoors, rich earth and cold snow.

"That wasn't so bad," he said, "You didn't have much stuff."

"It's easier that way," Mercedes said, trying not to be effected by his overly male presence, the plaid flannel shirt he wore was rather tight, and she could imagine the muscles underneath, and his jeans, cupped his firm buttocks, every time he bent over to pick up a box. She bit her lip and shuddered. It had been a long time since she found herself attracted to anyone and it was unsettling.

"Cold?" he asked, completely oblivious to her internal appraisal of his body, "I'll turn on the heat."

"Great, thanks," she said.

He smiled and went to the thermostat on the opposite wall, turning it up.

"It'll be toasty in no time."

"Thanks for all of your help, I really appreciate it."

"No thank you, I'm glad you moved in. It's nice to have someone other than George and Gracie to talk to."

The apartment door opened and Abby walked inside. She went to her mother, handing her a note.

_I'm hungry._

"Me too, boo," Mercedes said, "It's past lunch time. I'll order something."

"Or you could keep a lonely man company and have lunch with me downstairs? I make a mean grilled cheese and I have homemade beef stew." Sam said, nudging her with his elbow, "And that's better than take-out."

"Well, Abby?" Mercedes asked her daughter.

Abby looked at them and nodded.

"Looks like you got a date," Mercedes said, "We'll freshen up and be down in a bit."

Sam rose from the couch and stretched his arms

"I also have sweet potato pie for dessert baked by yours truly."

"That's a lot of calories," Mercedes said, suddenly feeling self-conscious, since she moved to Bethel Rock she gained 15 pounds.

Sam frowned.

"Hey, don't worry about stuff like that. Life is too short."

"I suppose you're right."

"See you downstairs," he said and left.

Mercedes took a shower and changed into a "date" outfit even though this wasn't a date. She chose her favorite purple cashmere sweater and black skinny jeans. She curled her hair and put on blush and lipstick. Abby sat on the toilet seat and watched her mother get ready. When she was done, she stared at herself in the mirror. Men always said she had pretty eyes, though she felt her lips were more praiseworthy. She wished she could hide those 15 extra pounds because they seemed to settle in her ass, making it even bigger.

"Do I look ok?" She asked Abby.

Abby nodded and pointed to the perfume on the counter.

"No, that's only for special occasions, I'll wear it some other time. Come on, let me braid your hair."

At one point, Abby had wanted to cut her hair really short, and Mercedes put a stop to that; she couldn't bear to see her baby's curly, kinky locks land on the floor of the beauty salon. After she braided her hair, she told her to change into a clean pair of jeans and a fresh sweater.

Abby pointed to her tool belt.

"Yes, you can wear it." Mercedes said, "Now don't pussyfoot, I don't want to keep Sam waiting."

Abby wore an ugly Christmas sweater that Mercedes thought she had donated to Goodwill. It was bright gold with a green felt Christmas tree decorated with rhinestones. For some odd reason, Abby loved it, much to Mercedes' annoyance, but she didn't' have the time or patience to argue with her, so she bent down, kissed Abby's cheek, took her by the hand and went downstairs.

**ooo**

Sam's cooking impressed Mercedes. The grilled cheese sandwiches were extra gooey and cheesy; and the beef stew was the best she ever had; Sam said he used fresh rosemary and thyme for the stew, which added to the robust flavor. It was fun sitting in his cozy kitchen, eating the comfort food lunch and talking about nothing in particular. Even Abby seemed more relaxed, as she ate her food, though her big, brown eyes roamed about searching for something. Mercedes knew what she was looking for.

"Where are George and Gracie?" she asked Sam as he set the sweet potato pie down in the center of the table.

"Probably on the couch, why?"

Mercedes pointed to Abby.

"Oh, I see," Sam said, he put his hand on Abby's shoulder, "You can go to the living room and visit them, and you do you think you can do me a favor?"

Abby looked at Mercedes.

"It's ok sweetie," Mercedes said.

Abby nodded her head. Sam went to the cupboard under the sink, and pulled out a cat brush.

"Here," he said, "They both need brushing, and I haven't had time to do it."

Abby nodded again, took the brush and left the kitchen.

"I guess it's more pie for us," Sam said as he cut two slices of pie and put them on cracked blue plates.

Mercedes took a sip of water.

"She might have some later. It looks delicious. You're really a good cook."

"Thanks. I always liked experimenting with food," he said, before digging into his slice of pie.

The pie, just like everything else, was wonderful, the texture of the sweet potato filling was smooth and creamy and the crust was delicate and flaky with a rich buttery flavor. The spices were a little different; Mercedes tried to identify them.

"You added something," she said, taking another bite, "It's more than cinnamon and nutmeg."

"Yeah, I used Garam Masala, an Indian spice."

"Did you go to culinary school?"

Sam laughed.

"Nah, cooking is just a hobby."

After they finished the pie, Sam made them each a cup of ginger tea with honey. The snow was coming down harder outside. Mercedes felt calmer than she had in a long time and even grateful.

"Sam."

"Yes?"

"Thanks for letting me rent the apartment upstairs. You don't know how much we needed it."

Sam patted her hand.

"There's no need for thanks."

"I wanted a new beginning. I think it will be good for Abby."

"That's why I bought this place, a new chapter, so to speak."

"What do you do?"

"I used to run a chain of tea shops here in Bethel Rock and in Chattanooga, now I'm flipping a few houses and just looking at my options."

"I see," Mercedes said, clutching the warm mug of tea between her hands and closing her eyes.

"Tired?" Sam asked.

"A little… I have a job interview tomorrow morning."

"Where?"

"A music teacher position at the Remington School."

"I heard that's a good school."

Mercedes nodded.

"Yes. It's perfect for me and for Abby. If I teach there she can go there for free, and that would be a blessing. Thanks for not making a big deal about how she is; a lot times folks ask questions or sniff around for answers and it's nice to see an adult just treat her like any other child. There's nothing wrong with her mind, and when she's ready, she'll talk again" Mercedes said as she took a sip of tea, "is it always so quiet around here?"

"Not always. Sometimes I blast Metallica at 2am," Sam said in a joking manner.

"You know what I mean," Mercedes said, chuckling.

"I guess it is pretty quiet. I like it," Sam admitted, "But I got some old albums that I like to play.

"Albums?"

"Yeah, I have an old school soul, Donny Hathaway or Bobby Womack soothe me when I need to unwind.

"Me too."

Sam looked impressed.

"So you like 70s soul music?"

"I like all kinds of music, but I got a soft spot for some Melvin and the Blue Notes from time to time."

"You're my kind of woman!"

Mercedes laughed and hoped her dark skin hid the flush in her cheeks. She wasn't the type of woman to flirt or even search out a man's advances, but Sam reawakened those feelings in her she thought were dead and buried, it was scary, thrilling, and ….

_"__You know that the only answer is yes, right?" Shane said._

_They stood on a rainy street in front of the Lima Bean. He was on bended knee._

_Mercedes held the sparkling diamond ring in her hand._

_"__Shane I –"_

_"__Before you answer know that I'll build you that castle in the sky. Give you yellow brick roads and make you a queen cause that's what you deserve." _

_Mercedes bent down and kissed his cheek_

_"__Yes, Shane, I'll marry you."_

_"__I always said you were my kind of woman"._

"Mercedes, Mercedes, are you ok?"

Mercedes blinked and her mind felt foggy. The memory faded and she slowly came back to the present.

"I'm sorry I, well, I just remembered something."

"I didn't mean to upset you by what I said. I was just running my mouth," Sam said, and his green eyes were filled with worry and concern.

Mercedes managed to smile and grabbed his hand.

"It's nothing, really. Thank you so much for lunch. But we need to head upstairs and start unpacking everything."

"Ok," Sam said, looking disappointed by the sudden departure, "Hey, if you ever want to kick back old school style, you know where to find me."

"I'll definitely take you up on that," she said over her shoulder as she went into the living room to get Abby. She found her daughter curled up next to George and Gracie fast asleep; she bent down to pick her up and a sharp pain shot through her lower back.

"Ouch!"

"Back issues?" Sam asked rubbing her back gently, "I'll carry her for you."

"It's an old car accident injury. It flares up from time to time. Yes, please carry her, I hate to wake her up. She hasn't been sleeping well." Mercedes said, trying to ignore the flames in her belly when his large hands pressed against her back in an attempt to soothe the pain.

"I've got Icy Hot if you need it."

"Thanks, but I've got medicine upstairs."

Sam gently picked up Abby who was dead asleep and didn't even wake up. The cats meowed softly as their human pillow was taken away.

"Shhh," Sam said to them.

He followed Mercedes upstairs and once she opened the door, he went inside with her.

"You can lie her on the couch," Mercedes whispered.

"Do you have a blanket?"

"Yes," Mercedes said and opened a nearby box, pulling out a fluffy pink blanket.

Sam laid Abby on the couch and covered her with the blanket. He stepped back and looked at Mercedes, his gaze holding hers for a second too long.

"I better get going. Thanks for having lunch with me."

"Thanks for having us."

"Don't worry about that job interview. I'll say a prayer for you."

"Thanks, Sam, that's just… thank you."

Sam walked to the door and as he opened it he said:

"Remember, I'm here if you need me."

* * *

><p><strong><em>THE INTERVIEW<em>**

"I see you used to teach music at Lima Elementary School. As you know, the Remington School is for special needs children, do you have experience in that area," Mrs. Friedman asked Mercedes, she was the principal of The Remington School; who was an older woman with snow-white hair, gray eyes, and a no-nonsense sensibility about her. The navy suit she wore had wrinkles, and even the gold broach pinned to the lapel of her jacket was freshly polished. Mercedes hoped her black dress pants, green blouse and black blazer were enough; she suddenly felt underdressed in Mrs. Friedman's large office with oil paintings of the founders of the school on her walls. The plush leather chair Mercedes sat in was comfortable, but she was a bundle of nerves, and with the way Mrs. Friedman treated this interview like an interrogation only made things worse.

"Not extensive experience. However, once a month I had a music therapy class with the special education students."

"Only once a month?"

"Yes, the budget wouldn't allow for more."

"Typical public school bureaucracy. I bet they had money for their sports programs. Forget the arts."

Mercedes waited for the next question. Mrs. Friedman glanced down at her resume.

"Ohio State University. Decent school."

"Yes."

"I'll be honest. We want someone with more experience with special needs children. Some students have emotional problems and others have learning disabilities. You must realize that's a lot to take on."

Mercedes gripped the arms of the chair.

"My daughter is mute, due to a personal tragedy. Dealing with her has made me more patient, more empathetic; I know I would be good for this position. I'm good with children overall, and music is a common language for everyone, regardless of one's mental or emotional capabilities. Please Mrs. Friedman, I swear if you give me this job, my performance will exceed your expectations and then some."

Mercedes was surprised at how confident she sounded when she felt anything but confident. She faked the funk as Aunt Josephine would say. She sat up a little straighter in her chair and smiled. Mrs. Friedman nodded and made a little sound in her throat.

"You have moxie and I admire that, and I like your passion for music. We need to fill this position as soon as possible. When can you start?"

"Anytime you want."

**ooo**

_The phone rang at 3:00 in the afternoon. Mercedes was baking cookies for a school fundraiser. The house smelled like snicker doodles. She answered the phone._

_"__Hello, Mrs. Tinsley?"_

_"__Yes?"_

_"__I'm Officer Todd Grimes. Your husband was shot today during a store robbery in Lima Heights. We have your daughter Abby with us. She's in shock."_

_"__What? Oh my God…"_

Mercedes woke up from the same nightmare she had every night for the last year. She relived the day that Shane died over and over again in her dreams. Abby was there when it happened. According to the court records, an armed teenager, who was high on crystal meth, came into the 7-11, demanding the money in the cash register, and Shane tried to reason with him, asking him to think about his actions, and the kid shot him five times. Right there in front of Abby. He probably would've shot her too, but those were the last of his bullets. The store owner said he never heard a scream like that in all his days, when those bullets hit Shane's chest and Abby flung herself on top of him, yelling, crying, blood soaking into her overalls. The EMTs had to pry her off of him, and nobody could console her. Those people didn't understand that Shane was Abby's world. They were inseparable. She wanted to be a handyman like him when she grew up. He took her on his jobs all the time. She was probably the only little girl in her class that had more use for a toolbox than a dollhouse. Shane's handyman business was very successful and it was expanding; he had a crew of 5 men and bought a couple of vans. He could fix anything and Abby got her mechanical abilities from him.

After Shane's death, Abby stopped speaking. Mercedes took her to a few psychiatrists who all said the same thing: wait it out. Trauma affects everyone differently. So Mercedes bought Abby notepads, and began to read her expressions and watch her more closely. Aunt Josephine treated Abby just the same as did Shane's parents. They all learned her form of sign language and read her notes. Others weren't so kind. Her teachers wanted her to speak. Strangers asked if she was "slow" and relatives aside from her grandparents and Aunt Josephine said that Mercedes was coddling Abby too much and that "that child should talk" and "ain't nothing wrong with her…" Mercedes cut off a lot of her relatives after that and Abby had no further contact with her cousins, which was sad because they had been so close.

Living in Lima became harder each day. Running into their friends, people whispering about Abby, passing by Shane's grave every morning on her way to work; she couldn't take it any more, and decided to move away; even though Aunt Josephine was against it. Mercedes couldn't blame her aunt for feeling some kind of way. After all she raised Mercedes since she was a year old when her parents were killed in a house fire. Aunt Josephine was especially protective of her because it was a miracle that she survived the fire. "Those firemen got to you just in time," she often said, reliving the memory, "Such a shame about your mama and daddy. But we got each other now, and that's enough." When Mercedes left Lima, that hurt her Aunt Josephine deeply, but she had to do what was best for her and Abby even though Abby still didn't completely understand why they left. In her daughter's mind, they were leaving Shane behind too, and that wasn't how Mercedes saw it. Her husband was dead and buried, his grave was in Lima, but not his spirit that followed them everywhere, and it was this lesson that she hoped Abby would understand someday.

Mercedes reached for her phone on the nightstand and saw that it was 2:00 in the morning. She got out of bed, put on her robe, and went to check on Abby. Her daughter was asleep, buried under her bright blue down comforter. Mercedes watched her sleep for a few moments, then went to the kitchen and made a cup of hot chocolate from the mix that Sam gave her a few days ago. Sitting in the kitchen, staring out into the snowy night, Mercedes heard the faint sounds of the Stylistics coming from Sam's apartment downstairs:

_And betcha by golly, wow  
>You're the one that I've been waiting for forever<br>And ever will my love for you keep growin' strong  
>Keep growin' strong<em>

This made her smile.

* * *

><p><strong><em>BROTHERLY LOVE<em>**

Sam's brother Finn came to visit one afternoon, while Sam was in the middle of putting down new tiles in his spare bathroom. He loved his brother dearly, but Finn could get under his skin sometimes, and today was no exception. When Sam answered the door, Finn held up a take-out bag from Hunan Treasure. He was such a tall fellow with broad shoulders and gangly walk that many found him intimidating, but really, Finn was a sweet person, though misguided at times.

"Hey, little bro, brought you some lunch."

"Thanks, come on in."

"Of all the houses to buy, you chose one far away from town. I got lost getting here. And why haven't you returned my calls?"

Sam led them into the kitchen and set the bag on the table.

"I've been busy."

Finn took off his coat.

"Did you ever rent out that apartment upstairs?"

"Yeah, a single mother and her daughter."

"Is she cute?" Finn asked as he started taking the white cartons out of the bag, "I mean it's been a while since you've dated anybody."

Sam felt funny talking about Mercedes for some reason. He wasn't sure why.

"She's attractive. I don't have time for that sort of thing."

"Dating isn't a "sort of thing" admit that you're lonely and now with Quinn being pregnant and getting married to Will – "

"Finn, please, I can't talk about her right now."

"Still in therapy?"

"Yes."

Finn munched on an egg roll then said with his mouth half full:

"We should go on a road trip with Kurt and Stevie."

"I don't think Stacey will like being left out."

"She'll understand that her brothers are male bonding."

"No, she won't"

"We can't take her. I don't want to talk about sex in front of her."

"I'm pretty sure she knows about sex."

Finn covered his ears.

"Don't say that! Stacey is still pure as the driven snow. I got her that ring and everything."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"For God sakes, Finn, she's an adult, she goes along with the charade to spare your feelings. I know you love her but you have to let her be a grown woman which she is."

"I know, but in my mind, she'll always be little Stacey, all freckle faced and dancing in pink tutu."

Sam hugged him.

"Your heart is in the right place. You're a good brother, I mean it and Stacey knows it too, but you can't stop us from being adults."

Finn smiled a little and piled his plate with shrimp fried rice.

"We should still go on a trip. It will do us some good. We never see each other. I miss all you guys."

"I miss you too. But I'm going through some shit right now, that I have to deal with on my own. Anyway Kurt is holed up with Blaine nowadays and besides Rachel will never let you go any time soon."

"I'll have you know that I'm not under my wife's thumb."

"Keep telling yourself that, bro."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you guys think I'm whipped."

"We don't think it. We know it."

"Rachel isn't that bossy."

Sam raised his eyebrows and changed the subject.

"How are the twins?"

"Matt and Lucy are fine. Hey, why don't you come by this weekend? We're having a movie day with the kids. We'll make popcorn balls, even have sing-alongs for the musicals, what do you say?"

As much as Sam loved spending time with the twins, being in such close proximity with Rachel could be nerve-wracking. She was nosy and even bitchy at times, and though she clearly loved Finn and was a good, devoted mother, Sam could only take her in small doses. But thankfully, he had a legitimate excuse.

"I have to go to Chattanooga this weekend to check on a house I bought, but thanks for the offer."

"Rachel's homemade popcorn balls can't tempt you?"

"Sorry, man, I really do have to go to Chattanooga. I think the house needs a new roof."

Finn piled another helping of shrimp fried rice onto his plate. Sam forgot how much his big brother could eat. When they were kids, they always had to hide their Halloween candy from Finn because he would get greedy.

"Ok, but I'm going to plan something for all of us soon. Oh, and another thing," Finn said, biting into his third egg roll.

"What's that?"

"I've got something for you."

Finn searched around in his coat pocket and pulled out a pamphlet. Sam took it from him and saw that it was for a support group for men suffering from infertility. He was about to say something to Finn, curse him out even, but his brother spoke before he could get the words out.

"Don't get mad. Just hear me out," Finn said, "You're not less of a man. And if any woman thinks that, she's not worth shit. I hate to see you living in a black hole, thinking you don't measure up, because you do. You more than measure up. Quinn is a bitch. Plain and simple."

"You have no right – "

"I know I don't have any right. But I'm your big brother; I'm always gonna stick my nose in your business. It's wrong, it's annoying, and hell, it's just plain rude, but I don't care, I love you too much to see you waste away… a low sperm count isn't a death sentence –

"You don't understand, alright? You've got two beautiful kids. If I'm ever with a woman who wants kids, what do I tell her? People only think this shit affects women, but it affects men too, we just don't talk about it. Do you know what it was like the day we found out about my problem? Do you? How Quinn just looked at me and broke down in tears and I never saw her so hurt before? Our goal was a big family, like the one I grew up in, and yes adoption was considered, and artificial insemination with a sperm donor, but she wanted a piece of me and her growing inside her, but I couldn't give that to her. No matter what we did. I failed her." Sam was crying. He rarely cried in front of anyone, but this was Finn, and he didn't have to pretend with him.

"Dude, listen," Finn said reaching across the table and holding Sam's hand, "The right woman won't care. And yes, adoption is a great option."

"I agree. It's just hard, bro. I mean as a man you just take for granted the role that you play, and when you don't fulfill it, it's like a piece of you is defective."

Sam thought back to those days when Quinn would initiate sex and he felt like too much of a loser to make love to her.

_"__Sam we can get through this," she said, rubbing his chest._

_"__I've tried every treatment."_

_"__We'll keep trying"_

_"__Keep trying and coming up empty?"_

_Quinn tried to kiss him, and Sam pushed her away._

_"__You deserve better than me."_

"And Quinn isn't completely to blame. I was a dick too," Sam said, confessing to his douche behavior.

"I know," Finn said.

"I'm afraid of trying."

Finn he opened up a fortune cookie.

"I'm afraid every morning I wake up,"

"Why?"

"I worry about Matt and Lucy riding the bus, Rachel's OCD going into overdrive, mortgage payments, my job… life is difficult, but then I get out of bed, listen to Rachel bitch about her allergies while she's dusting the kitchen, and then Matt and Lucy are fighting over the remote, and well, I know it sounds nuts, but I feel blessed. Those crazy folks are my family and the fear melts away, and Rachel packs my lunch with organic foods because she loves me and wants me stay healthy; and Matt and Lucy give me a big hug for no reason and it's all worth it. Fear can't stop you from living. I want you to have what I have."

"Thanks, Finn," Sam said.

"Anytime, man."

After they ate lunch, Sam served Finn a couple of slices of the apple pie he baked the other day, and Finn being Finn, managed to convince Sam to let him take the whole pie home.

"You don't need a whole pie anyway," he said as he wrapped the pie in foil, "And Matt and Lucy will love it."

"The rate you're going, I'll be surprised if they get a piece."

"I would never deprive them, but yeah, this is almost too good to share."

As Finn was walking out the front door, Mercedes and Abby came inside carrying a bunch of grocery bags.

"Hello there," he said with a bright smile.

"Finn this is my new tenant Mercedes and her daughter Abby. And Mercedes this is my brother Finn." Sam said.

"Nice to meet you Finn," Mercedes said, "I'd shake your hand, but my hands are full."

"That's ok."

"Let me help you with those," Sam said, grabbing the bags from her hands.

"I'll help too," Finn said, setting his pie on the small table near the door, and taking the bags from Abby's hands. Abby blinked at him but remained silent and stood close to Mercedes who put her arm around her.

"Thank you, Sam, Finn, we appreciate it."

Sam was already going up the stairs with Mercedes, Abby and Finn following behind him. When they got to her apartment, she unlocked the door, letting them inside. Sam noticed that everything was unpacked and the apartment looked lived-in, unlike his place downstairs that resembled somebody's forgotten attic with all of its boxes lined against the walls. They carried the bags into the kitchen and set them on the counter.

"Thanks again, guys. Would you like something to drink? I have lemonade and sweet tea."

Sam was about to decline, but Finn with his big mouth sat down to the table and said:

"Yes, I'll have a glass of lemonade."

"I thought you had to get home," Sam said, he didn't like Finn being nosy around Mercedes; though knew he meant no harm and was only curious; it unnerved him.

"It's only lemonade."

Mercedes opened the fridge.

"Would you like some Sam?"

"Yeah, sure."

She poured two glasses and set them on the table. Abby stood in the doorway and watched them closely. Sam figured that Finn's presence unsettled her a bit so he said:

"Abby, Finn is my big brother, and you know what he did when he was your age?"

Abby's eyes grew wide and she shook her head.

"When we went to see Santa Claus, he got scared and peed on his lap."

Finn turned red as he drank the lemonade, when he set the glass down he muttered:

"Thanks a lot for embarrassing me."

Sam laughed and looked over at Abby whose mouth hung open for a second then closed. The next thing that happened was truly miraculous; a tiny smile appeared on her face before she vanished from the doorway. Mercedes saw it too, and she almost dropped the carton of eggs she was about to put in the fridge.

"My word, she hasn't smiled in such a long time…" she said, then looked over at Sam who was as surprised as she was, "I can't believe my baby smiled a tiny bit today."

Sam wasn't quite sure what to say so he let Mercedes revel in the moment. She set the eggs on the counter and joined them at the table.

"You'll have to excuse my reaction… I just… I saw the little girl I used to know for a second. Sam held her hand, squeezing it gently. Finn took it all in, with a million questions in his eyes, but Sam knew his brother had enough sense, not to ask any of those questions just yet; he would fill him in later. Mercedes hugged Sam whispering thank you in his ear, then she stood up and started to put the groceries away again.

"Finn, do you live nearby?"

"About 20 minutes away, how do you like it here so far?"

"It's an adjustment. But I like it"

"Good."

Finn stayed and chatted for a while even going so far as to show Mercedes pictures of Rachel and the twins, and Mercedes was attentive, smiling at his jokes and genuinely enjoying having them both there for the impromptu visit. It was nice spending time with her. Sam knew that his brother was forming an opinion of Mercedes and judging from his intense, concentrated expression; he came to one of his intuitive conclusions. When the visit was over, Sam walked his brother to his SUV parked in front of the house. Finn unlocked the car and put the foil-covered pie on the passenger seat, and then he and Sam hugged good-bye. As Finn got in the car he said:

"I'm going to only say one thing."

"What's that?"

"Look in front of you."

Then he started the engine and drove away, honking his horn since that was a part of their good-bye ritual. The air was bitter cold, and the sun was setting, creating a golden pink glow in the sky; Sam shivered and rushed back into the house, locking the door behind him. He hated it when his brother talked like Yoda. What was right in front of him? But even in his anger, he knew the answer, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about it.

* * *

><p>NOTES: Thanks for reading!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**SUMMARY: **Sam and Mercedes grow closer, but must deal with some obstacles to move forward

**RATING:** Teen

**WARNING:** Mild cursing, mentions of child abuse

* * *

><p><strong><em>EVEN THE SPARROW HAS FOUND A HOME<em>**

On a frigid Saturday afternoon, Sam and Abby sat on the floor of his living room in front of the fireplace, putting together a birdhouse from a kit that Sam bought online. The fire gave a pleasant crackle, warming their backs, as they concentrated on the task. Every once in a while, either George or Gracie would come over to them, rubbing their sleek, furry bodies against their backs, and sniff the colored wooden panels included in the kit. While Sam took the lead, Abby proved to be a good assistant, her talent for tools was quite apparent especially when she nailed the forest green roof together with great ease, and could see where each piece needed to go without Sam telling her. As they glued the brick-red back panel to the roof, Mercedes wandered into living room with a silver tray filled with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, three glasses, and a glass pitcher of milk.

"I thought you might like a snack," she said, setting the tray on the coffee table.

"Thanks," Sam said rising from the floor, "We need to let the glue dry anyway."

He and Abby sat on the couch next to Mercedes and helped themselves to sandwiches while she poured them each a glass of milk.

"Thanks for inviting us over today," Mercedes said, taking a sip of milk, "Abby loves building things."

"You're welcome. I thought she would like it."

Sam watched Abby as she munched on her sandwich, snuggled up close to her mother, and Mercedes put her arm around her, kissing the top of her head. It was such a simple show of affection, and his heart twisted a bit, because that was a scene he wanted with Quinn, and now he feared he would never have it. Sighing, he pushed the thought out of his head, he had a lot to be thankful for, and he never wanted to be ungrateful for the good things in his life.

"Where will you hang the birdhouse?" Mercedes asked.

"From my favorite oak tree out back."

"Why is it your favorite?"

"It looks like a tree in my grandparents' backyard; my family used to go there every Sunday after church and have dinner. And after we ate, we'd go outside to play, and we always climbed that tree. Looking out my window, and seeing that tree makes me remember those times."

"That's sweet."

"I'm a sentimental sap."

Mercedes shook her head and laughed; she picked up a sandwich, and bit into it. Sam liked the coziness and warmth of the fire, and sharing a quiet afternoon with Mercedes and Abby. As they ate their sandwiches, the only the sounds in the living room were the fireplace crackling and the cats purring on the window seat, curled up in silver fur bundles. When she finished her sandwich and milk, Mercedes walked across the room and began sifting through a box of old record albums shoved against the wall.

"You've heard of iPods, haven't you?" she said, teasing him, as she lifted a dusty Sylistics album from the box.

Sam laughed.

"Maybe so. But there's nothing like hearing the pop and hiss of a record."

"Play this one for me," She said, handing him the album, "I heard you playing it before."

"Really? I didn't know it was that loud."

"Don't worry, it wasn't, it was very faint."

Sam got up and plugged in his old record player that sat atop an empty cherrywood liquor cabinet that was coated with a fine layer of dust. He put the album on and after a few pops and hisses, the first few notes of Betcha By Golly Wow filled the living room. Mercedes swayed her head to the music while Abby sat on the couch, watching them.

"Now this is a real slow jam," she said, closing her eyes, she began to sing along:

_There's a spark of magic in your eyes  
>Candyland appears each time you smile<br>Never thought that fairy tales came true  
>But they come true when I'm near you<br>You're a genie in disguise  
>Full of wonder and surprise<em>

Sam's ears perked up when he heard her sing.

"Nice voice you got there."

Mercedes opened her eyes, and she looked up at him, as if only remembering he was in the room with her. Sam loved the serene expression she wore when she sang. He held out his hand to her.

"May I have this dance?"

Mercedes accepted his hand and very slowly, the two began to dance like two teenagers on a first date, Sam noticed the gap of space she kept between them, and he respected those boundaries; her hands felt so small and vulnerable, in his large, callused ones, and he had the urge to protect her from everything. That was just Sam's way; he knew that slaying dragons and climbing towers was fairytale lore, but part of him wanted to be a knight, even if the gestures weren't grand.

Sam appreciated being so close to such an attractive woman. Her full, plush figure enticed him, as did her lovely doe eyes, and flushed cheeks. As the music played, they did a sort of turning, waltz-like dance around the living room, with Abby, George and Gracie as their audience. Toward the end of the song, he dipped her gently, catching her by surprise and she laughed out loud.

"Sam!"

"What can I say? I got moves."

When the song ended, they dropped onto the couch and Abby scrambled into Mercedes lap, hugging her.

"How was our dance, sweetie, was it good?"

Abby nodded.

Mercedes kissed her cheek.

"That's how grown folks should dance. Not that damn twerking, you hear me?"

"That's right," Sam said, picking up the silver tray off of the coffee table, "I'm going to get us some water."

After he brought back bottles of water, they rested on the couch, listening to the rest of the album until Abby looked at Sam and pointed to the birdhouse.

Sam nodded.

"The glue should be dry by now. Let's finish putting it together."

They settled in front of the fireplace. All that was left to do was attach the front red panel that had a large hole for the birds to enter, and a much smaller hole beneath it for them to perch. Abby carefully screwed in the front panel. She pointed to the perch and Sam handed the long, wooden stick to her and she screwed it into the small hole. Sam attached the gold hooks to the roof and the house was complete. It was a diamond-shaped birdhouse with a sloping roof. Mercedes clapped her hands.

"Good job, you two!"

Abby looked down at the floor and smiled a little, and Sam saw a hint of a blush beneath her coffee brown cheeks. He wanted to give her a hug, but due to her sensitive nature, he thought it would be safer to pat her shoulder, which he did.

"You're a natural woodworker," he said.

Abby pulled her pink notepad out of the pocket of her overalls and wrote Sam a note:

"Thank you. I had fun."

Sam looked at the note, written in Abby's childish scrawl, and tried to keep his voice light, even though he felt a tenderness inside that overwhelmed him.

"You're welcome, Abby."

"Why don't you go outside and hang it up?" Mercedes said, nodding toward the window.

Sam turned to Abby, "Do you want to?"

Abby nodded her head. So they bundled up in their hats, coats and scarves and went outside, while Mercedes stayed behind, relaxing in front of the fire. Abby carried the birdhouse as they walked to the oak tree; snow fell gently from the gray sky above; the frozen, snow covered ground crunched under their feet. Sam kept his hand on Abby's shoulder and guided her along. When they got to the tree, they hung it from a low branch on a gold chain already attached from a previous birdhouse. They stood back and admired it for a few minutes with the wind blowing, and snow swirling all around them. Then in the middle of their tranquil peace, Sam heard a loud bang that sounded like gunfire and then it happened again, at first he was startled, then he realized it was their neighbor's old car backfiring. And poor Abby, she didn't know what it was, and she screamed and clung to Sam; her whole body shook against his.

"Abby, it's ok. That was just an old car starting, nothing to be scared of."

Abby continued to scream and cry. Sam wasn't sure what to do so he carried her back to the house, silently cursing his neighbor with that stupid old car. Her screams grew louder and louder and Sam felt them in his heart; it was like the sound tortured her. Upon opening the door, Mercedes rushed up to them, wearing her coat.

"I heard Abby scream and I was about to come outside, what happened?" She said, taking Abby from his arms and trying to soothe her.

"My next door neighbor's car backfired and it scared her."

Mercedes rubbed circles on Abby's back as the child continued to wail, "Come on baby, it's ok. It wasn't a gun. You're safe, ok? You're safe here with Mommy and Sam. Nobody is going to hurt you…"

Abby's screams turned to whimpers. Mercedes sat down on the stairs and rocked her in her arms, whispering to her, until she finally calmed down. She looked over at Sam.

"I'm sorry, but I have to take her upstairs. Thanks for everything."

"Will she be ok?"

Mercedes gave him a sad smile.

"I think so."

* * *

><p><strong><em>THIS WOMAN'S WORK<em>**

Later that evening, Sam went upstairs to Mercedes' apartment, with a pot of chili and a pan of cornbread. He felt awful about what happened earlier and he thought the least he could do was make dinner for them. He rang the doorbell twice and finally Mercedes answered the door. Her eyes were red and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a green bathrobe and pink bunny slippers.

"Hi Sam," she said, trying to smile, "What's up?"

"I wanted to check on you and Abby to make sure everything was alright, and I brought you some dinner."

Mercedes took the pot and pan from him.

"Thanks, Sam, come on in. Abby is asleep."

The TV was on but the sound was turned down low. A worn copy of Wuthering Heights was lying on the couch along with a fuzzy orange blanket and a box of tissues.

"I'm putting this in the kitchen. You didn't have to make us dinner, but I appreciate it," she said over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.

"You're welcome," Sam said, sitting on the couch. He waited patiently for her to return. After they left earlier, he couldn't get Abby's screams out of his head, or that sheer look of terror on her face… he truly wanted to help but didn't know how. Mercedes came back two red mugs, and a plate of sweet rolls.

"I don't have much of an appetite, so I'll save your meal for later, but I thought you could use some tea. Now it isn't the fancy stuff that you're used to, just plain Lipton, and the rolls are store bought."

Sam smiled and took the steaming mug from her hands.

"Thanks."

They sat silently drinking their tea for a few moments and then Sam said:

"I'm really sorry about what happened and I – "

"Please it wasn't your fault. How would you have known?"

"I get that but… I don't know. And if you don't mind my saying so –"

"I look like hell, right?"

Sam shook his head, setting his mug on the coffee table.

"No, you look like you've had a rough evening. Do you want to talk?"

Mercedes stared into her mug and a few tears slid down her plump cheeks.

"Sam, sometimes, it's so hard, I just want to throw up my hands and say 'screw it' I can't do this anymore. But I can't give up. I won't give up."

Sam squeezed her shoulder.

"You're not God. You have to accept that you can't fix everything right away."

"I hate seeing her in pain. The worse feeling in the world is seeing my baby in pain."

Sam put his arm around her and she laid her head on his shoulder.

"The reason she freaked out this afternoon was because that sound reminded her of the day her father died."

"What happened?"

"My husband was shot and killed during a robbery and Abby was there. After that day she stopped talking."

Sam hadn't expected something like that and hearing about the traumatic event that made Abby mute twisted his gut.

"Jesus, I'm sorry," he said.

"And now we're trying to start over."

Sam had no words for her. What could he possibly say to her that would make her feel better? He was a childless, divorced man, seeing a therapist and just barely dragging himself out of bed everyday. What did he have to offer? He tightened his arm around her and let her cry because sometimes that's all you could do. When the tears stopped flowing he said:

"I have zero experience or knowledge about any of this, but have you taken her to a therapist?

Mercedes leaned away from him and wiped her face with a tissue.

"Yes. And it's never worked out. They all told me to wait. None of them could get through to Abby. But I've been searching for one online."

"Good. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"I'm not asking you to take any of this on."

"I know you're not asking but I'm offering."

Mercedes yawned and gave him a hug.

"Thanks, Sam."

"You get some rest."

"I will."

Sam left her apartment, feeling heavy in his heart. Much later that night, as he lay in bed, Abby's screams haunted him.

* * *

><p><strong><em>A DAY IN THE LIFE<em>**

Mercedes liked her new job, though it was challenging. Her students reminded her of the Island of Misfit Toys: odd, strange and wonderful. She joined an online meet-up group for Special Education teachers, and she enrolled in a weekend course at the local community college about teaching kids with emotional issues. The Remington School teachers cooperated with Abby's muteness unlike her teachers in Lima whose patience wore thin, and they chastised poor Abby for her inability to speak.

So far, Abby excelled in her classes at her new school. The only problem was that she shied away from the other kids; and she spent most of her time alone or tending to the class pets. Each grade had several animals that they took care of, and her third grade class had a hamster, a goldfish, and a rabbit, all of which Abby cared for with lots of love. And if anything ever needed fixing, like a wobbly desk or loose doorknob, Abby had her trusty tool kit with her, and would hammer and nail the problem away. The janitorial staff got a kick out of her handiness with tools, calling her Little Miss Fixit and used her talents for any small jobs they had.

Mercedes hoped Abby would change and make friends with her classmates, but it didn't look like it would happen any time soon. One of her teachers, Ms. Tina Cohen-Chang, especially liked Abby and looked out for her. She encouraged Abby with praise and would bring her books she thought she might like. She and Mercedes became friends and usually ate lunch together in the Teacher's Lounge at noon. One cold December afternoon, during lunch, Tina asked Mercedes if Abby had any friends at home.

"George and Gracie," Mercedes said, as she took her bowl of vegetable soup out of the microwave. Sam gave the soup to her and Abby, saying he made way too much, and just like all of his culinary creations, it was heavenly.

Tina opened up her McDonald's bag and took out her Big Mac and fries.

"Are they her age?" she asked.

Mercedes laughed.

"I don't know how old they are. They're a couple of tabby cats that belong to my landlord."

"Oh," Tina said, her face disappointed, "You'd think the Abby would feel comfortable around the other kids because they all suffer from something and understand what it's like to be different."

"I know, but she seems happier, and I'm thankful for that."

Tina pointed to the soup.

"Is he still cooking for you?"

"He doesn't cook for me."

"Every time I tell you how good your lunch looks, you always say 'my landlord made it'," Tina said, while opening up several packets of ketchup and drowning her fries in the thick, red, sauce.

Mercedes stirred the soup before taking a bite, her mouth flooded with the rich flavors of tomatoes, carrots, potatoes and fresh herbs from Sam's windowsill herbal garden.

"He's not my personal chef."

"He's your personal something," Tina said, giving a Cheshire Cat smile, "Most landlords don't cook gourmet meals for their tenants."

"The only thing personal between us are the personal checks I write to him for the rent," Mercedes said.

"Whatever you say Ms. Tinsley."

Mercedes wanted to talk about something else. It was like Tina had found her diary and was reading it word for word out loud to an audience of snickering teenagers; it was embarrassing and exposed her, but underneath, a tiny sense of guilt lingered whenever she felt that flutter of attraction for Sam in her belly. And to her disappointment, she and Sam hadn't seen much of each other these past few weeks aside from his dropping off meals. He bought a couple more houses and was busy flipping them; and her work and class schedule left her busy most of the time. But even though they didn't spend time together, Sam managed to do little things for her like cleaning off her car in the morning after the night's snowfall, helping her carry the groceries to her apartment, taking pictures of the birdhouse and sliding them under the door so Abby could see that a cute red cardinal had taken up residence in the pretty little house. And late at night, she would hear Bobby Womack crooning through the air vent into her apartment and sometimes Sam's voice joined him.

"What are you and Mike doing for Christmas?" She asked, hoping Tina would take the hint and drop the subject of Sam.

"We're flying out to California to visit his parents. They haven't seen Charlotte for a while."

Charlotte was their adopted baby girl. Her biological parents were black and Asian; and her skin was the color of mahogany and she had lovely slanted, almond shaped eyes. When the couple first saw the adorable baby girl, they immediately wanted to adopt her; no one else wanted her due to her health problems, but after she had extensive heart surgery, she was doing much better, and no longer needed a feeding tube.

"That sounds nice," Mercedes said, staring down at the table, trying to keep up her cheery mood, because this was their first Christmas without Shane. She had planned on seeing Aunt Josephine, but then her aunt informed that she was going a on a cruise with her choir group, and that they would get together sometime after the holidays. Mercedes briefly wondered if she was doing this out of spite. Tina patted her shoulder.

"What are your plans?"

"I don't know yet. I worry about this being a trigger for Abby, since her father is gone. I think maybe we should stay home, in case she has an episode."

"I wish I had some advice to give you."

"I know you do. It's not exactly a situation with a black or white answer," Mercedes said as she finished off the last of the soup, a lonely sadness filled her heart. She didn't want to drag Tina down with her problems so she said:

"Do you have any new pictures of Charlotte?"

Tina nodded and smiled. She picked up her big, black purse off of the empty chair beside her and pulled out her phone.

"She's wearing the red velvet dress you gave her. Take a look."

Mercedes gazed down at the phone, and saw a chubby Charlotte laughing at the camera and wearing the beautiful red dress trimmed in white lace and red ribbons. Her round face was so sweet and cute that Mercedes wished she could pull her out of the picture and give her a kiss. A big red bow sat atop her mass of black curls.

"She's a cutie pie," Mercedes said, "I'm glad you liked the dress."

"Red is definitely my baby girl's color," Tina said, "Mike took a million pictures, he's such a sucker for her."

Like Shane was for Abby, Mercedes thought to herself, but she never said it out loud.

**ooo**

The rest of the afternoon flew past in a flurry of singing choruses, tuning instruments, and an incident with a student named Jack, who suffered from a severe anxiety disorder. Jack was 10 years old with a thatch of bright red hair and pensive blue eyes that never stayed focused too long on any particular thing. During class that day, they were learning about string instruments and each student took a turn handling the violins, cellos, and guitars. When it was Jack's turn to touch the instruments, he said the strings would hurt him and he would bleed.

"I don't like blood," he said, covering his eyes, "The strings will hurt me."

Mercedes knelt beside him on the floor. She reached out her hand just far enough so if Jack wanted contact, he could have it.

"Halfway?"

Jack nodded and slowly inched his way toward her hand and their fingertips touched.

"Strings do bad things."

"Do you like how it sounds?"

"Yes. But they're bad."

"How?"

Jack searched her eyes, trying to see if Mercedes was as bad as the strings, and when he found no malice he said:

"He cut me with the strings."

Mercedes remained calm. She knew that some of these kids were abused and were taken out of their homes and put in foster care. An older, childless couple recently adopted Jack, and they loved him regardless of his damaged soul. Mercedes didn't ask Jack whom he was referring to; instead she said:

"Close your eyes."

"He won't hurt me will he?"

"No, Jack. You're safe."

Jack closed his eyes. She beckoned over one of the other students, a shy girl named Molly, who spoke with a lisp and could play the guitar; and she told her to play Twinkle Twinkle Little star. Molly smiled, her braces shining in the light and began to play as Mercedes sang along:

"Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are."

As she sang along with Molly's rudimentary playing, Jack's skinny, pale fingers curled around her own, and soon he sang too.

"Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky…"

When the song was over, his eyes remained shut, but he clung to Mercedes' hand.

"Where are you Jack?" she asked him.

"I'm here."

"Did the song sound pretty?"

"Yes."

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Do you think you can touch the strings?"

Jack opened his eyes and reached for the guitar, upon touching the strings, he cried out and pulled his hand away.

"I feel him," he said.

"It's ok, Jack, you did good today."

Jack looked up at her.

"How?"

"You tried. And that's more than most people do. I'm proud of you."

"The strings sounded pretty."

"I know and you sounded nice singing."

"Thank you."

"Do you want to go to the quiet room and lie down for the rest of the period?"

Jack nodded and Mercedes took him to the small room toward the back of the classroom; it was painted a cheerful yellow and covered with soothing pictures of baby animals and blue skies. A twin bed covered with a patchwork quilt was in the room, along with a small table that always had bottles of water sitting on it. Jack lay on the bed and closed his eyes.

"I'll leave the door open," Mercedes said.

**ooo**

By the end of the day, Mercedes was drained, the Jack incident broke her heart, but each day had its own anxieties and for every bad thing that happened, a good one did too and her job gave her purpose. That evening after she put Abby to bed, she relaxed with a cup of hot chocolate and watched It's a Wonderful Life. Just as she was dozing off, her doorbell rang. She knew it was Sam because outside visitors would use the door buzzer for the front door downstairs. She smoothed down her hair and glanced at herself in the hall mirror before answering the door to find Sam standing there holding a red Christmas tin decorated with holly sprigs and snowflakes.

"Here," he said handing her the tin, "I baked these cookies myself. May I come in?"

"Yes, of course."

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said.

"Only George Bailey's suicide. Thanks for the cookies."

Sam sat down on the couch.

"You're welcome."

Mercedes opened the tin and was impressed with the assortment: chocolate chip, sugar, oatmeal raisin, and thick squares of shortbread. She took an oatmeal raisin cookie and bit into it, savoring its cinnamon oat flavor and the sweetness of the plump raisins. It was perfectly soft and chewy, with a fresh out of the oven taste.

"This is excellent," she said, "You know you don't always have to bring me something yummy to eat when you visit, though I love that you do.

"I got into the holiday spirit," Sam said, his eyes roaming about the room, and Mercedes knew he was wondering why she had no decorations up or even a tree.

"I've been lax about decorating this year. It's our first Christmas since my husband died."

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok. But Abby is fragile, I don't want her to suddenly feel overwhelmed about her father not being here. I don't know what to do; I'm feeling it out."

Sam took a shortbread cookie and bit into it.

"What was your husband like?"

The question surprised Mercedes. People rarely asked her about Shane; she figured it was because others thought she would find it too painful. Tears came to her eyes as she spoke about the man she loved and mourned.

"He was amazing. He had this big laugh and an even bigger heart. He was Santa Claus every year at our church."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he was an awesome Santa, kids loved him. You know he always wanted what was best for people, especially kids. And he adored Abby. When she was born, he cried more than me. They were joined at the hip."

"Sounds like a great man."

"He was. When we first started dating he really helped me with my self-esteem."

"But you're so confident."

"I am. But I wasn't always like this. It took a long time for me to love myself and Shane helped me with that. I'm a big woman, and in a world that favors a certain standard of beauty, that can be hard, so when Shane told me I was beautiful, it unlocked something in me; I began to appreciate every curve God gave me. Oh, I still had my ugly days like most women, but Shane was always there to put a crown on my head, no matter how unattractive I felt."

Sam was quiet for a long time and Mercedes worried that she revealed too much; or maybe she put a damper on his holiday cheer.

"Sam? You ok?"

"I'm just sitting here wondering how you could ever think you're unattractive."

Mercedes' eyes grew misty.

"Believe me I have. But you know when I really feel beautiful?"

"When?"

"When I'm standing in my purpose and truth. That's what fills me up the most because I don't falter. Only when I go against that, does the ugliness set in."

Sam stared at her with an expression that Mercedes could only describe as awe.

"You know yourself, don't you?" he said, reaching for her hand.

"Yes, but then I surprise myself too. I guess that's life's journey."

"I suppose it is. People used to tease me about my big mouth and thick lips. They called me Trouty Mouth. I was self-conscious about it for a long time and then Finn was like, dude, they're dicks, and besides no model scout is asking them to pose for Abercrombie and Fitch."

"You were a model?"

Sam shrugged.

"I was but I _hated_ it. Too many fake people. I come from a great family. We were taught humility and kindness. Burt and Carol Hummel weren't raising a bunch of self-absorbed brats."

Mercedes let his fingers intertwine with hers and said:

"Tell me about your family."

"I come from a family of five. Finn is the oldest, then Kurt, then me, then Stevie and the youngest is our sister Stacey. We're close but don't see each other much cause we're all busy, but there's nothing I wouldn't do for any of them. We had a lot of fun growing up."

"Poor Stacey, the only girl."

"Poor Stacey nothing, she got along just fine with her brothers, trailing behind us everywhere we went. Could hunt and fish with the best of them and then be a ballerina too."

Mercedes smiled as Sam told her his memories.

"I wish I grew up with brothers and sisters. It got lonely as an only child."

"Well, I'm officially making you an honorary Hummel, if you accept."

"Thank you kindly, sir," Mercedes said in a fake southern accent, "I gladly accept."

Sam squeezed her hand.

"Spend Christmas with us."

"You mean with your family?"

"Yeah, Mom and Dad love having company. I hate to think of you two here all alone; we have more than enough room for you."

"I'm afraid of upsetting Abby. I don't know how she will react being around so many people."

"We're a friendly bunch. And besides it might be the best thing for her. I'll even drive, so you don't have to worry about using up your gas."

Mercedes was quite aware of the fact that they were now holding hands; and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"Ok," she said.

Sam hugged her.

"You won't regret it. Hummel Christmases are always special."

"I'm sure I won't," she said, but a tiny part of her wondered if she made the right decision for Abby.

He broke the hug and said:

"I have something else to ask you."

"What's that?"

"Would you and Abby like to come to church with me for a special candlelight service? It's a nice church downtown, and I don't go as often as I should but, you know sometimes it makes me feel good just to have that fellowship."

"Church?"

Sam turned red.

"Sorry, if I'm overstepping my bounds, it's fine if – "

Mercedes shook her head and laughed.

"No, I was just a little surprised, but yes, we'll go to church with you."

Sam smiled and squeezed her shoulder.

"Ok, the service is tomorrow evening at 6:00."

"We'll be ready," Mercedes said.

* * *

><p><strong><em>HOPE BY CANDLELIGHT <em>**

Mercedes enjoyed the candlelight service at the First Community Church of Bethel Rock. The congregation was welcoming and she loved how the candlelight filled the entire church, reflecting off of the brilliant stained glass windows. Abby's eyes were wide as she watched the candle flames, flicker and sway, but what was most beautiful to Mercedes was the singing. They sang traditional Christmas carols and hymns, but the passion in the voices impressed her. Her starved spirit was nourished. Sam whispered a lot to Abby, explaining everything to her and pointing things out that she would find interesting, like the beautiful painting of Adam and Eve on the ceiling, the Christmas tree decorated with silver and gold ornaments, and the sweet incense burning near the pulpit. Abby smiled and took everything in, clutching her small candle in her hands. He admired Abby's blue velvet dress; and he told Mercedes that she looked like she stepped off the cover of Vogue as he stared at her in her red satin wrap-dress, pearls and high heels; her hair hung down her back in soft curls. His praise made her stomach flutter and she could barely say thank you.

The big surprise of the evening was Sam's solo. After the uplifting sermon, the young preacher, who looked about 30 years old, and had curly black hair and wide expressive brown eyes, said to the congregation:

"We have a special treat tonight. Brother Sam Hummel would like to sing a song for us. Sam, I'll let you take it from here."

Sam squeezed Mercedes' and Abby's hands, before getting up and walking to the front of the church. He stepped to the microphone and said:

"This was last minute and I'm glad y'all accommodated me. Anyhow, I'm going to sing this song for a friend of mine whose going through a tough time. She's a wonderful woman and I believe in her. This song is called Hold On, and no, it's not the Wilson Phillips song, this is something different it's by the band 33 Miles."

A few of the church members laughed at that, and Mercedes chuckled too. One of the choir members handed Sam a guitar and he began to sing.

_I've been there a thousand times  
>Felt the rain like a thousand knives and it hurts<br>I know it hurts_

_I've been there like a fighter plane  
>Trying to fly my way through a hurricane and it's hard<br>I know it's hard_

_Don't be afraid  
>You'll make it through<br>Just call out to me  
>And I'll come running to you<em>

_And hold on, hold on  
>When the current pulls you under<br>And your heart beats like thunder  
>Just give me your hand<br>And hold on, hold on  
>Until the storm is over<br>And I'll be fighting for you  
>Just give me your hand<br>And hold on…_

Sam's eyes found hers through the glowing candlelight; his voice was cracked and raspy and wonderful, and she cried as he sang, each word filled her with hope. She could keep going, just one day at time, and yes, she could hold on… Abby held her hand, gazing up at her, and Mercedes leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead. When he was finished, the applause was deafening, and when he made his way back to their seat, she reached for him, holding him tight, tears spilling onto the black suit he wore.

"Thank you, Sam."

He hugged her back just as hard.

"I know you'll get through this."

* * *

><p><strong><em>A TEST IN VIRTUE<em>**

After the service, while they enjoyed hot chocolate and thick slices of a butter cream frosted, red and green Christmas cake in the Great Hall of the church, a blonde woman wearing a lacy pink dress with a full skirt and white gloves, and a less than sincere smile, walked over to them. She held the arm of a very disinterested older man in a black overcoat, with gelled back grayish brown hair and thin lips. He barely acknowledged them with the curt nod he gave. Sam frowned at the woman.

"Quinn, what are you doing here?"

Mercedes realized this was the same woman in the poster she saw in Sam's living room.

"I'm a member of this church, remember? Now introduce me to your friends."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Mercedes, this is Quinn, my ex-wife and her husband, Will Schuester."

"And the little one?" Quinn asked, still sporting a fake smile.

"The little one is my daughter, Abby," Mercedes said, not sure if she liked this woman at all.

"Oh, how sweet you look in your little blue dress," Quinn said to Abby.

Abby looked up at Quinn then looked back at Mercedes, and stared at the ground.

Quinn raised her perfect eyebrows.

"Shy?"

"Yes," Mercedes said.

"Hopefully, she'll outgrow it, I remember when I was her age I –"

"Leave her alone," Sam said breaking into her trip down memory lane, "What do you want?"

"No need for rudeness. I only wanted to say Merry Christmas."

Sam's tone softened a bit.

"Merry Christmas, now we have to be going, it's getting late."

But Quinn wasn't letting him get away so easily.

"How long have you two been dating?"

"Quinn, babe, we need to leave," Will said, nudging her in the side, "I'm getting one of my headaches."

"You're always getting a headache," she said dismissing him with her white-gloved hand as if he were a gnat she wanted to swat; then she turned back to Sam:

"Well, how long?"

"We aren't dating," Sam hissed, "Now back off."

"What about that big to do during the service –"

Mercedes jumped in.

"It was nice meeting you," she said, not really looking Quinn in the eye; she was one of the most beautiful women Mercedes had ever seen in person and also one of the most bitchy, "Sam, we'll wait for you in the car."

Before he could respond, she was already walking away, feeling Quinn's eyes on her back. But a pain was in her heart, and it wasn't until she was tucked away in bed that night, snuggled beneath her down comforter that she realized what it was:

_We aren't dating._

That's what Sam said.

And that's what hurt.

To be fair, it wasn't like they labeled it as anything. They never kissed. Their time together was very sweet and chaste; not a steamy romance. But she always thought of Sam as a "maybe" possibility; she couldn't deny her attraction to him and he had a lot of qualities that she admired. She shouldn't be hurt or angry, but the fact of the matter was, and as irrational as it was, she did feel hurt and angry for no good reason. Sure, Sam was a good man, but he wasn't her man… Did she want him to be? And what about Abby? Was it wise to let a man into her life while her baby was healing? Mercedes had no answers. She said a silent prayer for guidance and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong><em>I DON'T PAY YOU 150.00 AN HOUR FOR NOTHING<em>**

Sam logged into Skype for his session with Artie.

"Hey, Artie," he said to the brown haired man on the screen, who was sitting near the beach. His skin was tan, and he held a big, red drink, garnished with an umbrella and pineapple slice.

"Sam, my man, mi amigo, how's it going?"

"Are you on vacation?

"No, I'm on the back deck of my beach house, sweet huh?"

"What are you drinking?"

"Don't worry, I'm not drunk. It's some smoothie thing that Brittany made for me. Supposed to keep up my strength. What's the weather like in Tennessee?"

"Cold and depressing."

"I feel you. Too bad you're not in California. Talk about a warm December. Went down to the mall the other day and Santa was wearing swimming trunks and he had washboard abs."

"I still like my Santa fat and jolly."

"Same here, dude, so how have you been?"

"I've been ok, well sort of, it's about Mercedes."

"What about her?" Artie asked, leaning back in his chair, the sunlight on his face, "You know, you never told me if she's hot or not."

"She's pretty."

"Send me a picture."

"Now?"

"Yes, now, and your session is only 50 minutes so get cracking."

Sam sighed and chose a picture on his phone of him, Mercedes and Abby the day they built the birdhouse and he sent it to Artie.

"I sent it," he said.

Artie nodded, and looked down at his phone:

"Very nice. A plus-size ebony queen. You hitting that?"

"Artie, please, it's not like that."

"Then explain it to me."

Sam told him everything about Mercedes and Abby and finished the story with the church service and Quinn's rudeness and his invitation to spend Christmas with his family.

"Now Mercedes is acting funny around me," he said, "I think it has to do with Quinn."

"You think?"

"Alright, tell me what I did wrong."

Artie took a sip of his drink.

"First, I'll tell you what you did right, since I'm feeling generous."

"Ok, shoot."

"Check one. You do all that chivalrous stuff that chicks love like cleaning off her car and cooking meals."

"Yeah."

"Check two. You offered to help with Abby, even though you don't know what the fuck you're getting into. Check three. You slow dance with her without bumping and grinding. Very classy."

"I like classy."

"So do quality women. Check four. You spend time with Abby."

"You make it sound like I'm playing a game and I'm not."

"Dude, I know you're not running a game, trust me, let me finish ok?"

Sam nodded.

"Go on."

"And check five, the grand puba of them all, you sing an inspirational song to her in church! Church! I mean, bro, I know you're just being you but damn… that was like epic. I bet she cried, right?"

"There were tears."

"Thought so."

"What did I do wrong?"

"Check one. You never asked her out on a real date or even let her know you're interested in anyway, aside from dancing to the Stylistics, you could just as well be her preacher or something. You kids nowadays have lost the art of courtship. Stupid hook-up culture."

"You're only a year older than me. Anyway, I certainly wasn't thinking pure thoughts when I was dancing with her that's for sure. And besides, I didn't want to push – "

Artie held up his hand.

"I've got the mike."

"Ok, I get it."

"Good, now where was I? Oh yes, I get that you don't want to push her, but you need to step up and let your intentions be known. Right now, you're a boy scout, doing good deeds, now you need to be a man and do the deed, you feel me?"

"I think it's too soon to sleep together."

"You're right it is, but all kidding aside, you have to let her know how you feel and where you hope to take this. Get out of the damned friend zone."

"Mercedes loves being a mother and she loves kids."

"Sam, like I've said a million times before, not every woman is going to bolt because of your condition. Why can't you see that?"

"I don't know."

"Let's just say you and Quinn stayed together. It never would've worked. You know that. She's too controlling and her idea of a good life was very different from yours."

"What else did I do wrong?"

"Check two. You told Quinn that you aren't dating Mercedes. In front of Mercedes. After you sang her that song in front of the entire church. Gee, what's wrong with that picture?"

"I made it seem like she wasn't even a possibility?"

"Bingo."

"I don't know, Artie. We never said we were dating. And I said what I said because I was trying to protect her and Abby."

"How?"

"Quinn can be a bit much sometimes and I know Mercedes can hold her own but lately she's been going through stuff and I didn't' want to add fuel to the fire. Quinn backs off if she doesn't think anything is going on."

"You give your ex-wife too much power. This is your life. Your choice. Man up and step up to the plate, no matter how hard she tries, Quinn can never ruin anything for you unless you allow it. Do you know how many of my clients have fucked up exes? I know what I'm talking about. And Mercedes is seriously digging you."

"She is?"

"Damn it, Sam, sometimes I wonder if you and my wife Brittany share the same brain, yes she likes you!"

Sam leaned back in his chair.

"How do you know?"

"A woman who isn't interested wouldn't let you in the way she did. People only allow themselves to be vulnerable to those they trust."

"I understand. Anything else I do wrong?"

"Not wrong, per se, but I do have something I want you to think about."

"Sure."

"Mercedes sounds like a great woman. But dude, she has A LOT of baggage, and her husband has only been dead for a year, and on top of that she has an emotionally disturbed daughter; that incident with the birdhouse won't be the only one. I know you like her and I support you, but remember what you're getting into. And yes, rejection is a part of this too, and she may decide not to pursue anything with you because of all that she's dealing with, especially when Abby is concerned. So yeah, tell her how you feel, but keep in mind, this ain't no Harlequin romance."

Sam sighed.

"Thanks, Artie."

"No problem. And Abby should be in therapy. Mercedes too, if I may be so blunt."

"Never stopped you before."

"You're right it hasn't."

"Do you know of any therapists near Bethel Rock? Skyping won't work for her."

"Well, there's this former classmate of mine, we went to Princeton together; she deals with children and trauma. Her name is Dr. Santana Lopez; she's rough around the edges but a real softy, I know she's in Tennessee somewhere. I'll email you her information.

"Thanks, man."

"See you, Sam, until next week."

"Until next week."

After Sam logged off, he looked out his window and stared at the birdhouse hanging from the oak tree. Despite the hardships they were going through; he knew in his heart that he wanted to try and see if a relationship with Mercedes was possible.

* * *

><p><strong>END NOTES:<strong> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

**SUMMARY: **Mercedes and Abby spend Christmas with the Hummels; and things progress between Sam and Mercedes

**RATING: **Teen

**WARNING:** Mild sexual thoughts and cursing

* * *

><p><strong><em>A VERY HUMMEL CHRISTMAS<em>**

Sam's parents lived about three hours away in the town of Dusk Hollow; it was even smaller than Bethel Rock, and it was mostly a farming community. The drive with Mercedes and Abby was tense at first and Sam tried his best to get Mercedes to let down the aloof wall she built around herself. He was surprised that she still wanted to go, despite her polite coldness toward him. Abby fell asleep in the back seat, and Mercedes read Wuthering Heights, or at least she pretended to, she seemed to be reading the same page for the first 45 minutes of their journey. After an hour of driving, Sam stopped at a gas station to get some water and snacks.

"You want anything?" he asked Mercedes, who was still staring at her book.

"Yes, could you get me some Ding Dongs?"

"Ding Dongs? You seem more like a Drake's Cake sort of gal."

Mercedes smiled and Sam sensed that the ice was melting.

"Looks are deceiving."

"Maybe. But I know what's in front of me."

"What do you mean?"

Sam didn't answer her. He only smiled and went into the store. He ended up buying Ding Dongs and Drakes Cakes, and 4 big bottles of water.

**ooo**

Mercedes offered to drive after they were on the road for two hours, but Sam refused saying he wasn't tired. Her offer was her way of trying to make amends, and a cowardly way at that, she reasoned as she gazed out at the Tennessee countryside. Sam played a 70s soul mix on his iPod and after a while he and Mercedes were singing a long to Across 110th Street, as the rustic scenery glided passed them. When the song was over, both of them were laughing.

"I love it," Sam said, grinning as they stopped at a red light, "I was raised on that stuff."

"So your musical tastes come from your parents?"

"Actually, it was my Dad more so than my Mom, he loves soul music."

"Thanks again for inviting us for Christmas."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you decided to come. I like spending time with you."

"Sam, I have something to say."

Sam pulled over to the side of the road.

"What is it?"

"Why did you pull over?"

"I have a feeling what you're about to say is going to be serious."

"Not enough for you to stop driving, but anyway, I'm sorry for how I've been acting toward you. I got this stupid idea in my head about us, and well, I like having you as a friend. You're a good man."

Sam took a deep breath as if he were trying to stay calm.

"Friends?"

"Yes, you didn't do anything wrong. I acted silly after what you said to Quinn. It really was my own crazy notions. I think it was stress-related."

"Stress-related?"

"And maybe hormones."

"Hormones?"

Mercedes nodded.

"Why do you keep repeating –"

Then she felt Sam's plump lips press against hers. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her soft body against his lean, muscular one. She felt his heart beating fast against her chest, and smelled his squeaky clean scent of Ivory soap and mint toothpaste. She felt safe like he would protect her forever… the intensity unsettled her; and then his tongue sought entrance into her mouth and she obliged; relishing in his taste of coffee cake and chewing gum; she let her hands roam up and down his back, and she moaned. It had been a long time since anyone had kissed her like that. Not since Shane… and the guilt settled in her chest, but she pushed it away. Then Sam slowly pulled away from her, his emerald green looking into hers, gauging her reaction. Mercedes was breathless and she felt a little dizzy.

"Sam…" she whispered, touching his face, trying to come down from the blissful high of the kiss.

"I want us to go on a proper date," Sam said, rushing to get his words out, "You know, dinner, a movie, maybe coffee afterwards; I'm interested in you. I want more than friendship. You're beautiful and kind and I'm falling for you, so what do you say? I can't make it any more plain than that. I want to be with you in a relationship."

Just then they heard a rustling sound in the back seat. Abby slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"Hi sweetie," Mercedes said, smoothing down her disheveled hair which Sam had run his hands through moments earlier, "Have a nice nap?"

Abby nodded and pointed to the road.

"We're not there yet," Sam said, "But it won't be long."

"Do you want some water?" Mercedes asked.

Abby shook her head.

"Ok," Mercedes said, and then she whispered to Sam, "We'll talk later."

Sam started the car and they began their journey again.

His kiss lingered on her lips.

**ooo**

The Hummel home was a huge white colonial-style farmhouse surrounded by acres of land; they drove up a long, winding, paved driveway to get to the house. Sam said the nearest neighbor was a quarter of a mile away. Blue and white Christmas lights decorated the house; and a sign in the shape of an open Christmas card and made of red, white, and green lights was on the front lawn that said: Merry Christmas from the Hummels! On the roof of the house, a giant, plastic Santa and his reindeer glowed in the blue twilight. Sam parked the car.

"Welcome to our humble Hummel abode."

Mercedes gave him the side-eye.

"Humble my ass. This place is freaking huge."

"We spent years doing renovations. It didn't always look this nice."

"Don't try to play it off," Mercedes said, teasing him, "You grew up in a mansion."

He unlocked the doors.

"Come on, everyone is anxious to meet you."

"They are?"

"Of course. I'll get our bags."

As she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car, Mercedes briefly wondered if he explained to his family about Abby. Her daughter was already outside of the car, standing beside Sam; and watching him unload the trunk. Mercedes reached for his arm, pulling him aside.

"Sam," she said lowering her voice, " Did you – "

"Don't worry they know she's mute," he whispered.

Mercedes breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks."

He smiled and squeezed her hand before resuming taking the bags out of the trunk. They planned to stay for three days. The front door opened and an older heavyset woman with long, blondish brown hair, wearing an oversized Fisherman's sweater and faded jeans, waved to them from the closed-in glass porch.

"Hello there, you must be Mercedes and Abby, come on in, it's freezing out here," she looked over her shoulder and yelled out: Stevie, Finn, come help Sam with their bags. Come along ladies, I've got a hot supper waiting for you."

"Hello, Mrs. Hummel," Mercedes said as she and Abby walked up the stone steps that led to the porch.

"Sweetie, if you want to get on my good side, you'll call me, Carol," the woman said, laughing as her cheeks turned pink, her breath coming out in white puffs into the cold, evening air.

"Carol it is then," Mercedes said, smiling at the pleasant woman who stood before them, and once they reached the porch, she pulled them both into a big bear hug.

"We're excited to have you spend Christmas with us," Carol said.

Finn and Stevie came out onto the porch, with Finn flashing a big smile at them:

"Nice to see you both again," Finn said, hugging them.

"You, too, Finn," Mercedes said.

A tall blond man with the same green eyes as Sam, gave them each a hug too. He smelled like burning wood.

"Hi, I'm Stevie. Pleasure to meet you."

"Hello Stevie, nice to meet you too," Mercedes said.

Then Stevie bent down and said to Abby.

"I heard you like animals. Well we have two new kittens that need looking after. Do you think you can help feed them?"

Abby nodded and gave Stevie a small, shy smile and he smiled back at her.

"Good, my kids will introduce you to them."

"Come on," Carol said, ushering them into the house, "I know you're hungry after that drive and want to take a load off."

Once they were inside, Mercedes admired the polished wood floors and the long, red ribbon wrapped around the winding staircase. Then she saw something that caught her eye. At the top of the stairs, hung a large painting of the Hummel family; they were seated on a big, blue couch. The kids were elementary school age, and Mercedes picked out Sam immediately; his cheeks were round; and she could recognize those full lips anywhere; he looked like an angel with his floppy blonde hair and soft smile, he held a teddy bear and wore blue overalls, he was probably around five years old, Finn sat next to him, who even at that young age, looked like a giant compared to his siblings, his arm was wrapped around Sam, he was in jeans and a red sweater, a big smile on his round face; and next to them sat Carol, a younger version of her self with less wrinkles and darker hair; she wore a green dress held a cute chubby baby in a ruffled pink dress and Mercedes guessed that was Stacey; and Burt was beside them, thinner with less hair, wearing a white shirt; and Stevie leaned against Burt holding his father's hand, he was a string bean with glasses and blond hair, all arms and legs, dressed in brown pants and a orange sweater; next to him sat a boy who Mercedes figured was Kurt, his skin was pale as porcelain, he was rosy cheeked and delicate; his thick brown hair, carefully combed, his black slacks and white shirt were wrinkle free; and he wore an impish grin.

"Do you like our family portrait, folks always comment on it the first time they see it," Carol said.

"It's a lovely painting. You have a beautiful family," Mercedes said.

"Thank you. I know we drive each other nuts, but in the end, I think our family is pretty darn awesome," Carol said, smiling at her, her blue eyes twinkled.

The house had lots of delicious Christmas aromas mingling together: gingerbread, hot apple cider, turkey, stuffing, and onions… Mercedes' stomach growled. She was hungrier than she thought. Carol took their coats and scarves.

"Follow me to the dining room. Everyone is in there waiting for you two."

Mercedes suddenly felt shy.

"Waiting for us?"

"Yes, honey, we wouldn't eat Christmas Eve supper without you, that's just bad manners."

Mercedes nodded, clutched Abby's hand, and followed Carol to the dining room.

**ooo**

Christmas Eve Supper with the Hummels was quite an affair and Mercedes could only describe it as noisy, loving, and very fattening. The dining room had a long, oak wood table; covered with a festive red tablecloth embroidered with white snowflakes; the walls were a soft yellow; and Christmas music played in the background. Carol, along with Stacey and Kurt, prepared quite a feast: juicy roast turkey perfectly browned and laid out on a shiny silver platter; the meat was so tender and delicious; it could be eaten by itself and one would be satisfied, and it was stuffed with savory bread stuffing seasoned with sage. Silver gravy boats filled with thick brown gravy that tasted of marjoram, turkey juices and pepper were next to the turkey. Silky smooth buttermilk mashed potatoes whipped to perfection that melted on your tongue were in a lovely burgundy Cape Cod bowl; and next to the potatoes was a wicker basket filled with fluffy yeast rolls, still warm from the oven and lighter than air.

Bright crimson cranberry sauce flavored with orange liqueur, sat quivering in a delicate glass bowl etched with flowers; a white Cornwell dish filled with what Carol called "Slap My Mama" macaroni and cheese was beside the cranberry sauce; Carol said she used three different cheeses: cheddar, American, and Monterey jack, and fresh cream and butter from the local dairy farm; it was so decadent, delicious, cheesy, and creamy, that Mercedes had to stop herself from having a third helping.

A black pot of spicy collard greens with smoked turkey wings was at the other end of the table along with a big glass bowl of steamed broccoli with a hint of lemon juice and salt, and the table was completed with a large wooden bowl of fresh garden salad with crisp romaine lettuce, fresh basil, crunchy cucumbers and sweet cherry red tomatoes all tossed in a homemade oil and vinegar vinaigrette. Mercedes knew she gained about 40 pounds on that meal alone, but the Hummels were so warm and welcoming, that she had a wonderful time, despite the calories she inhaled.

Everyone hugged Mercedes and Abby upon meeting them, and they weren't polite hugs either; they were "you're a part of this family now" kind of hugs. Burt Hummel reminded Mercedes of a Papa Bear, because of his big, burly physique, and loud laugh that made you want to laugh too without knowing the joke. He was bald with sparkling blue eyes; a smaller version of a Karl Malden nose; and gentle smile. He sat next to Abby and treated her with such kindness; helping to fill up her plate and watching her closely to make sure she was cared for and Mercedes could see where Sam got his great character from.

Kurt and his husband Blaine made a cute couple, though they bickered now and again at the table. They recently had a baby girl via surrogate whom they named Carol after his mother, but everyone called her Carrie for short, she had curly black hair and blue eyes; they showed Mercedes her picture on their phone. She was in the living room sleeping in her playpen

"She keeps us busy. I don't know when I've slept a full 8 hours," Kurt said, as he scooped more mashed potatoes onto his plate.

"I want more kids," Blaine said, smiling over at Mercedes; "I know they're exhausting but I love taking care of them." He was a rather handsome man with thick black hair and his eyes were deep black pools; he wore a bright red vest and a green bow-tie and was a little on the pudgy side.

Kurt patted his husband's shoulder.

"That's why I do 9 to 5 and you do Mr. Mom."

"What do you do?" Mercedes asked.

"I own a couple of dinner theaters in Nashville," Kurt said.

"He's a wonderful performer," Blaine said, kissing Kurt's cheek, making him blush.

"I'm decent," Kurt mumbled, taking a bite of mashed potatoes.

"Better than decent," Stevie said as he cut up his son Lukas' turkey slice, "My brother could win a Tony if he wanted."

Lukas, who was four-years old and adorable with his wavy blond hair, dimpled cheeks and plump hands, touched Stevie's hand and said:

"Make the meat smaller, Daddy."

"Cool your jets, son, I'm getting it as small as I can."

Stevie's wife, Helen gently reprimanded their son.

"Be patient." she said, as she poured a glass of cider for their 6 year old daughter Birdie; who looked just like her little brother only leaner. Helen was a thin wisp of a woman covered in freckles and had long auburn hair she wore in a long braid hanging down her back, a touch of lip-gloss coated her seashell pink lips. The turquoise peasant dress she wore reminded Mercedes of a Mexican fiesta. She barely ate anything because she was so busy doting on her kids and everyone else for that matter. She looked over at Mercedes and said:

"So what brought you to Tennessee from Ohio?"

Mercedes shrugged.

"I needed a change. I watched that old TV movie Smoky Mountain Christmas late one night and I thought, hey Tennessee might not be so bad."

"Really?" Sam asked her, he sat next to her and he was quiet for most of the meal, but every so often, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze under the table.

"I know it's silly, but yeah."

"But you don't live anywhere near the Smoky Mountains," Stacey pointed out, her golden hair, hung down her back, straight and sleek like a 1970s Breck Girl ad; she was voluptuous with wide hips, full bosom, and a rather large behind. Mercedes wagered she was around a size 14; her flushed pink cheeks, skin like fresh milk, crystal blue eyes; and bountiful figure were reminiscent of the women depicted in Peter Paul Rubens paintings; Her lacy white blouse, hugged her breasts, as she leaned back in her chair, stretching her plump arms.

Mercedes laughed.

"True. I'm glad I made the move though."

"And I bet I know why," Stacey said winking at her, "My big brother is hard to resist."

Sam coughed into his napkin, his ears turning red.

"Um, how about we have dessert?"

"Don't get cute, Sammy," Stacey said in a sing-song voice, "You don't bring just anybody home to meet us. Besides, Mercedes is gorgeous, and not a bitch like that other one that shall not be named."

"Watch your mouth," Carol said to her daughter, "It's Christmas, let's not talk bad about folks, that girl was ruined in more ways than one. No need to discuss it. We lived it."

"Sorry, Mama," Stacey said, taking a bite of macaroni and cheese, "But that woman got under my skin."

"She burned under mine," Finn said.

Mercedes looked at Sam as he stared at his plate in contemplative silence; she watched as he finally looked up and gazed at all his nieces and nephews laughing and talking around the table.

"Sam, are you ok?" she whispered.

"I'm fine, just a little melancholy. Remembering stuff."

Mercedes held his hand.

"Everyone here cares about you. You're blessed."

He looked at her and gave her a lopsided grin.

"That I am."

Suddenly they heard someone tapping a fork against a glass to get everyone's attention. Mercedes saw that it was Finn's petite, raven-haired wife Rachel.

"Everybody, could you please be quiet for a moment?"

The family hushed and let her speak.

Rachel smiled, revealing gleaming white teeth, her red dress with a poufy skirt gave her stick figure some dimension, a diamond and ruby necklace glittered around her neck; and her olive skin glowed under the light of the chandelier.

"I have a surprise. My dear children and I are giving you a special Christmas treat. We're going to sing a holiday medley for you of all the classic carols."

Everyone clapped politely, and Mercedes could see they dreaded it.

"That's nice of you Rachel," Burt said with a forced grin.

Rachel nodded, still smiling like she was posing for a photo shoot:

"I knew you would appreciate it," she glanced at Finn, "Turn on the iPod when I tell you to."

Finn hopped out of his chair.

"Sure thing, baby."

Their ten-year old twins Matt and Lucy looked embarrassed, their cheeks were as red as Rudolph's nose and they stared down at their hands. Lucy was a carbon copy of Finn, tall with hazel eyes and a somewhat clumsy walk; she even had his thick, chestnut hair, she wore in ponytail with a red bow; while Matt favored Rachel, with his petite stature, dark eyes and hair, and long eyelashes. They were dressed in green and red, Lucy towered over her brother; she was older than him by three minutes. Mercedes felt pity for them, and hoped they could survive this childhood torture. Earlier that evening she chatted with Rachel about music; and while the woman was quite knowledgeable, her hunger for the spotlight made Mercedes uneasy.

"Come, children, up out of your seats," Rachel said, clapping her hands.

Matt and Lucy obeyed their mother and dragged themselves out of the big oak chairs, and walked to the head of the table where Rachel stood, presiding over everyone like royalty. She directed where they should stand.

"Now Lucy, you stand on my right and Matt, you stand on my left."

Once they were situated, Rachel said, "Turn it on, Finn."

Finn turned on the iPod and soon the dining room was filled with the first few notes of Jingle Bells only it was jazzy like an Ella Fitzgerald Christmas album. The trio snapped their fingers and belted out:

_Jingle bells, jingle bells_

_Jingle all the way…_

Mercedes thought Rachel had a great voice, but all of her posturing and showboating, distracted from it. With the little room they had at the head of the table, she and the children twirled, bopped and swayed through the carols. They ended with Silent Night and that was the best performance because Rachel sat her ass down with the twins on her lap, and sang from her heart instead of her ego;

_Silent night, holy night,_

_All is calm, all is bright_

Her voice was as clear as Swarovski crystal and just as delicate and beautiful; she and the children harmonized well together, and the way Rachel wrapped her skinny arms around them, holding them to her heart, was rather touching. Every now and again, she stared at Finn, and a blind man could see the love they felt for one another. Her bright eyes filled with tears as she sang. When they finished, there was genuine, enthusiastic applause, and they took a bow, faces flushed from the vigorous performance. Mercedes dabbed her eyes with her napkin and Sam shed a few tears as well. Abby climbed into her mother's lap, kissing her cheek.

"I love you too, Abby," Mercedes whispered. And Sam looked at them with love in his eyes, and he pulled them into a hug.

**ooo**

On Christmas morning, a sparkling blanket of snow covered the Hummel property; and frost glittered on the windows. Much to Mercedes' surprise, Abby left the warmth of the queen-sized bed that they shared, and joined the other kids at dawn, to open the gifts that Santa left for them. For a while, Mercedes listened to the commotion downstairs as she lay in bed enjoying how soft and comfortable it was; she knew it would be rude to hibernate in the bedroom, so she roused herself up, put on her big, purple robe, quickly made the bed, went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, and as she was about to go downstairs, someone knocked on her door.

"Mercedes, you up?"

It was Sam.

"Yes, just a minute," She said, tying her robe as she opened the door.

His blond hair was messy, sticking up every which way, and wrinkled sheet imprints covered his left cheek. His red plaid robe was partially opened, revealing his muscular chest and pink nipples. He held two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

"I thought we could talk."

"Alright, I just wanted to –"

"Don't worry about Miss Abby, she's having a blast downstairs. Matt and Lucy are helping her feed the kittens, and she wrote you some notes, I have them in my pocket" he said.

Mercedes waved him inside.

"Merry Christmas," she said, taking the hot mug from his hands and sitting on the bed. He closed the door behind him.

"Merry Christmas."

He sat down beside her and Mercedes suddenly felt hot and she knew it wasn't from the drink in her hands. Then he leaned over and kissed her lips, it was soft and sweet, and Mercedes felt herself melting. He pulled away from her, stroking her cheek.

"Well?"

"I want to date you too."

Sam took the mug from her hands and set them both on the dresser; and he jumped up and down on the bed and cheered:

"Yes!"

"Sam, your family is downstairs, you may want to – "

But Sam was too busy riding cloud nine to hear her.

"I am the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet, yippee!"

He kept jumping up and down and Mercedes didn't want his parents to think they were doing the "nasty" under their roof so she grabbed his ankle.

"Samuel Hummel!"

Her touch startled him out of his joyous outbreak and he calmed down, collapsing beside her, and banding his arms around her, pushing her back on the bed, so that he was on top of her, kissing her forehead, cheeks, then settling on her lips once again.

"Sweet Jesus, I could never get tired of kissing you."

Mercedes giggled beneath him, loving how his arms felt around her and enjoying the view of his bare chest; it all felt so good and sweet and… her thoughts turned to Abby and how this could affect her; what if it didn't work out and she grew attached to Sam? She already liked him well enough and he understood her so… her heart sank and she slowly sat up. Sam noticed the change in her mood.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Abby. You know how she is and what's she's been through with losing her father and everything. If it doesn't work out for us, where does that leave her? I can't bear to see her heart broken. I just can't."

Sam put his arm around her.

"We'll take it slow. I promise. No rushing anything. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt her. She's a wonderful little girl and I care for her deeply. Do you think she'll object to us dating?"

"I don't know. She likes when the three of us are together."

"That's true."

Mercedes laid her head on his shoulder.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see. I admit I'm scared."

"Me too."

She kissed him.

"At least we'll be scared together."

"Yeah…"

Mercedes thought she should tell him something else.

"About taking it slow, there's something you should know."

"What is it?"

"It's hard for me to say."

"Mercedes, whatever it is, I won't care."

She was quiet for a few moments, then she put her arm around him hugging him close.

"I don't have much sexual experience. In fact the only man I've ever been with is Shane," she felt foolish for telling him, but she had to come clean; he needed to know what he was dealing with; and Quinn didn't look like she lacked any experience which made Mercedes feel at a disadvantage.

"Is that all, sweetheart?"

Mercedes nodded.

"Yes."

He lifted her chin and looked directly into her eyes.

"Listen, I want you to hear every word of what I'm about to say."

"Ok."

"I don't care how much experience you have. I want to build something with you, not just jump into bed, is that clear?"

"Yes, it's clear."

"Good. We just need to learn from each other about what our bodies respond to, and when the time is right, we'll make love. But Mercedes, I want more than that. I really do."

They kissed again until a loud knock came on the door.

"I know what you two are doing and you need to knock it off," Stacey called through the door, "Sam knows I'm not joking!" Her tone was light and airy and Mercedes knew that Stacey was just giving them a hard time. Sam stood up and took Mercedes by the hand:

"Come on, we have presents to unwrap."

**ooo**

The family room was a sea of empty boxes, ripped wrapping paper, discarded bows, and a stack of fruitcakes nobody wanted. The children were all in their pajamas; excited squeals erupting from them, whenever they opened a present. A fire was lit in the fireplace and the grand Hummel Christmas tree decorated with big silver snowflakes, gold balls and angels, and a gorgeous silver star on top sat proudly in the corner. Abby showed Mercedes all of her gifts. Mr. and Mrs. Hummel got all of the children brand new handmade sleds and iPads. Mercedes felt that was too much, since they weren't blood relatives, but Abby was so happy that she thanked the Hummels profusely for their generosity, which they waved off as nothing.

Sam bought Abby a deluxe tool kit and a new tool belt since her old one was worn out. She was already wearing it around the waist of her pink flannel pajamas; Mercedes gave her daughter a woodwork kit to build a dollhouse. Even though Abby showed no interest in dolls, Mercedes noticed that she was asking Sam a lot of questions about building houses; and she figured she would enjoy it. She also bought her new overalls and jeans, a pair of hot pink sneakers, an iPod and a pair of fancy binoculars for bird watching. Sam gave Mercedes a beautiful opal and diamond pendant necklace; Mercedes' hands shook as she lifted it from its black velvet box. It was exquisite. No longer shy or unsure of where he stood with her, he kissed her in front of his family and helped her put it on. Abby looked at them with wide eyes. Mercedes protested at first.

"But Sam, it's so expensive and I –"

"You're worth it."

Her next gift was a lovely long-sleeved royal blue silk chiffon dress with a twisted waistband, a surplice V-neckline and a full, flowing knee-length skirt. The fabric was soft and luxurious, reminding Mercedes of a cloud, and it felt wonderful against her skin.

"I can't wait to see you wear this," he whispered, "All your curves in silk…"

Mercedes blushed and put the dress back in the box. He also gave her a few tin canisters of his homemade blend hot chocolate since she loved it so much, and a complete set of the Bronte novels.

She gave Sam gift cards to Lowe's and Home Depot since he was always going there for supplies. Some new plaid flannel shirts, a bright red and blue scarf she knitted herself; and a very expensive tea called Yellow Gold Tea Buds. Sam's eyes bulged when he saw it.

"I've been wanting to try this tea for a long time. I mean I – "

"I know and I'm glad you like it."

Seeing that look on his face was priceless and she couldn't resist the urge to kiss him so she did.

"Merry Christmas, Sam."

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he said wrapping his arms around her. Abby came over to them and wedged herself between, and they hugged her.

"It's not complete without you, Abby," Sam said to her. She looked up at him and smiled.

**ooo**

After the family room was cleaned up, all the women gathered in the kitchen to make Christmas breakfast, while the men sat around in the den watching TV and drinking coffee. The kids played with their new toys in the family room. Carol called this "Girls Only Bonding Time" and Mercedes loved every minute of it. The kitchen was enormous with bright peach walls, lots of counter space and top of the line, stainless steel appliances. Mercedes was put in charge of the bacon, ham and sausage; Stacey made the waffles and pancakes; Carol made the grits and biscuits; Rachel squeezed fresh orange juice and Helen fried the eggs. The girls chatted about everything and Mercedes came to the realization that this is what it was like having sisters.

"You and Sam should go out tonight," Stacey said as she poured the batter onto the hot waffle iron, closing it shut.

Mercedes turned the bacon over on the griddle and added a few slices of brown sugar cured ham.

"What's there to do in Dusk Hollow?"

"Necking in a cornfield," Helen said, cracking a few eggs open over a big, red mixing bowl, "It's not known for the night life."

"We just opened a community theater downtown," Carol said.

"I'm not sure if I should leave Abby alone," Mercedes said, lifting the bacon off of the griddle to drain on some paper towels.

"With all these folks, she won't be alone," Stacey said, "She's such sweet little girl. She wrote me a note and said I was pretty like a statue. I'm going to have it framed."

Rachel cut an orange in half, lifting it up she said:

"Are these organic?"

"Honey, I don't know. But one morning with non-organic oranges never killed a soul," Carol said as she dropped a spoonful of biscuit dough onto a cookie sheet, "Live a little."

"Living a little can equal a heart attack."

"I'm seeing someone new," Stacey said, turning the attention on herself, "His name is Ralph and he's a painter and he says he likes my ass, we'll see where it goes."

Carol opened the oven and slid the biscuits in.

"Stacey Elizabeth Hummel, could you not talk like a sailor on shore leave?"

"Oh, Mama, I'm just teasing. I know how to talk."

"And with that pretty angel face. A nasty mouth doesn't fit," Carol continued lecturing her daughter.

Stacey rolled her eyes, and flipped more pancakes. Helen poured the beaten eggs into a black iron skillet on the stove.

"I think a woman should be able to express herself anyway she wants. I hate double standards."

"Thank you, Helen." Stacey said and raised her hand for a high-five.

Rachel shook her head.

"Decency and decorum are the cornerstones of true womanhood. I wish I could get Lucy to wear white lace gloves, but they make her hands break out in a rash," she said as she squeezed the orange in the juicer, she then looked over at Mercedes and smiled:

"Sam seems quite taken with you. I think you two are lovely together."

Mercedes returned her smile.

"Thank you, Rachel. He's a special man."

"Yeah, Sammy is cream of the crop, when he's not being a complete idiot that is," Stacey said as she stacked the fluffy pancakes onto a blue porcelain platter; "It took him way too long to get a clue with you; and I thought Finn was slow. Did you know he failed kindergarten? Who in hell fails kindergarten?"

"Stacey, that's enough. Finn didn't fail. I kept him back a year because going to school was hard for him," Carol said, and she then turned to Mercedes, "I haven't seen my son this happy in a long time. I'm glad you're a part of his life. And that little Abby is something special."

Mercedes was overcome with emotion, and she went to Carol, who was stirring a big, black pot of grits on the stove, and hugged her from behind.

"Thank you," she whispered.

**ooo**

Breakfast was loud and noisy the way supper had been the night before, and Mercedes laughed and joked and felt like one of the family. By the time they finished eating, it was noon, and everyone went upstairs to shower and get dressed. When the kids were bathed and in their coats and snowsuits; they went outside to go sledding on the snow covered hills, with Finn, Stevie, Sam, and Burt supervising. Mercedes used this time to soak in the marble bathtub and listen to music. She rarely had moments like this back in Bethel Rock because she was always on the go. Now she could take a much-deserved rest. After her bath, she washed and conditioned her hair, and rubbed cocoa butter lotion onto her mocha brown skin. She stood in front of the mirror and stared at her naked body.

As a self-esteem booster, she picked out the parts of herself that she liked. She had high, proud breasts that were large, ripe, and beautiful, with nipples as thick as blueberries; and wide, fecund hips that pushed out her precious Abby into the world. She turned around and gazed at her generous backside, it was firm, plump, and smooth as polished wood. She glided her small hands over her callipygous derriere, gently squeezing her abundant cheeks; she imagined Sam's big, rough hands rubbing all over her bare ass, and whispering in her ear about how much he wanted her; and she could smell the sawdust and paint on his flannel shirt as he held her nude body against his clothed one; the thought aroused her and a wetness developed between her thick thighs, she turned away from the mirror, and quickly put on her robe, pushing the fantasy out of her mind.

Despite his obvious attraction to her, Mercedes wondered if she was the only big woman he had ever dated; she only knew about Quinn; and Mercedes was about as opposite from Quinn as a person could get. As she stepped out of the bathroom, she saw a cream-colored envelope that someone had slipped under her door. She picked it up and across the front, written in fancy calligraphy was her name: Ms. Mercedes Tinsley. She smiled to herself. What was that man up to now? The envelope was closed with a blue wax seal of the Hummel family crest; she carefully opened it with a bobby pin, and inside was a cream-colored card with a metallic gold scroll border. The card was also written in calligraphy and said:

_"__Mr. Samuel Hummel requests the company of Ms. Mercedes Tinsley _

_Tonight at 6:00 p.m. for dinner at the Sir Walter Raleigh Inn and afterwards to attend the Dusk Hollow Community Theater performance of Our Town. _

_Please refer to the instructions below regarding attire and arrangements._

_Instructions for Attire: Please wear your blue silk dress, opal pendant necklace, and your hair hanging down your back._

_Babysitting Arrangements: The Hummel family will tend to Abby for our evening out and will send you hourly texts about her well-being. _

_Please RSVP before 5:00 p.m. today by written confirmation and deliver across the hall to Mr. Hummel's room._

Mercedes sat down on the bed laughing and smiling, feeling like a 14 year old going on her first date with her ninth grade crush. Sam hit all the notes on this; she forgot that she told him how much she loved the old-fashioned courtship in the Bronte novels with wax sealed letters and handwritten invitations. She decided to be just as inventive and tore out a piece of blank gold pressed paper in a journal she bought at the Papyrus store and responded in her neatest penmanship:

_Dear Mr. Hummel,_

_I gladly accept your invitation for a date this evening. I look forward to it. _

_Until tonight,_

_Ms. Mercedes Tinsley_

She folded up the note lengthwise in three sections, and since she had no wax, she took one of her diamond stud earrings and stuck it through the paper, fastening it together. Across the front she wrote, Mr. Samuel Hummel, and she sprayed the note with her favorite perfume, Samsara. Smiling to herself, she crept out of her room, and went across the hall, sliding the note under Sam's door.

* * *

><p><strong>END NOTES:<strong> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

**SUMMARY: **Sam and Mercedes get pampered before the date; and find out new things about each other on the date

**RATING:** Teen

**WARNING:** Mild cursing, talk about death and grief, mention of suicide, depressing themes

* * *

><p><strong><em>SIBLING BONDS<em>**

When Sam received her note, he felt like doing a cartwheel, until he realized that possibly breaking his parents' furniture wasn't the way to go, so he just pumped his fist in the air instead. He smelled the gold paper and held the diamond earring up to the light, imagining it adorning her pretty little ear. Leave it to his woman to add these sweet touches, like a mint on your hotel pillow. He sat down on his bed recalling the events that led to this moment.

_Since Stacey owned her own calligraphy business called Sugar Pie Calligraphy back in Kentucky where she lived, she hand wrote the card and envelope for him, and Sam dictated to her word for word, __exactly__ what he wanted to say, standing over Stacey's shoulder as she carefully dipped her crow quill pen in a bottle of black ink and slowly wrote the detailed invitation to his specifications. He stood so close to her; that she finally blurted out:_

_"__Uh, Sammy, I love you and all, but you really need to back the fuck up," she said sweetly, gazing up at him, her crystal blue eyes clouded in frustration, "I do this for a living, remember?"_

_"__Sorry, Stacey, I'm just nervous."_

_"__Don't be. I'm impressed that you came up with this idea."_

_"__She loves stuff like this," he said, sitting on her bed. Despite Stacey's "rough around the edges" exterior, her bedroom reflected a softer woman who loved traditional femininity; her queen-sized brass canopy bed was covered with a white lace duvet, and white lace curtains hung in her window. _

_"__Mercedes will be thrilled when she gets this," Stacey said, and began writing again._

_"__I hope so," Sam said, "You really like her huh?"_

_"__Yeah. So you better treat my future sister-in-law right."_

_"__Sister-in-law?"_

_Stacey smiled at him._

_"__Just putting it out in there."_

_Suddenly Finn, Kurt, and Stevie, walked into the room without knocking, much to Stacey's annoyance._

_"__Guys, you seriously need to knock."_

_"__Well Sam is in here," Finn said as if that excused their lack of manners; he carried a tray with two turkey sandwiches and golden crispy French fries, "Mama sent up lunch for you two. Where should I put it?"_

_"__Over there on the dressing table," Stacey said, pointing to the other side of the room, "We'll eat in a second."_

_"__We're sorry for not knocking," Stevie said, bending down and kissing the top of his little sister's head._

_"__I'll let it slide, for now. And don't think that lunch fools me, y'all came to be nosy."_

_"__True," Kurt said sitting down on the bed next to Sam, he touched his brother's hair, "I'm giving you a hair cut."_

_"__Why?"_

_"__Cause you look like a stray dog, that's why," Stevie said, sitting on the bed too, "You want to look good for Mercedes, don't you?"_

_Sam sighed._

_"__It's not that bad," he said, touching his hair as it fell into his eyes; he wondered if Mercedes thought the same thing._

_Finn took a handful of fries and joined his brothers on the bed, taking up a lot of space with his hulky frame, "Where are you going to eat tonight?"_

_Sam took a few fries from Finn's hand._

_"__Sir Walter Raleigh Inn," he said, popping the fries in his mouth, "Damn these are good, Papa made them didn't he?"_

_Finn nodded and bit into a fry._

_"__Yeah he's got the Fry Daddy going."_

_Sam always thought his father's fries put McDonald's fries to shame. Soon Kurt and Stevie went over and grabbed some fries off the tray too._

_"__Y'all better leave some for me," Stacey said, "Ok, Sam, I'm done." She held up the invitation for him to see, "What do you think?"_

_Sam hopped off the bed to get a closer look._

_"__It looks awesome, Stacey, thank you so much," he said giving her a big hug, "Love you, sis."_

_"__You're welcome. Now none of you touch it. I don't want your greasy hands to ruin it."_

_"__We weren't raised in a cave, give us some credit," Kurt said and looked at Sam, "Go take a shower, and come back here so I can cut your hair."_

_"__Let me eat first," Sam said, going over to the dressing table and picking up his sandwich, "Besides, I have to deliver the invitation."_

_"__Ok, but don't take too long."_

_After he finished half of his sandwich, with Finn helping himself to the other half before he could get to it, Sam washed his hands, put the invitation in the envelope, and delivered it to Mercedes' room. He then showered and changed into a fresh pair of sweats and a Remington School hoodie that he bought from Mercedes during a school fundraising drive. When he returned, his siblings were all still gathered in Stacey's room, laughing and joking. For a moment, he just watched them, lying on her bed trading insults and catching up, and he realized how fortunate he was to have such a tight-knit family. When Kurt saw him, he said:_

_"__Come on, Shaggy, we need to get you cleaned up."_

_Sam sat on a fold-up chair in the center of the room, and Kurt covered him with a bright purple salon cape, and then began snipping away at his long, damp, locks. His brother learned to cut hair when they were in high school because he hated the barbers in Dusk Hollow, and he figured he could do a better job himself, so he convinced Burt to let him go to barbering school one summer. He quickly learned the craft, giving all his brothers and Burt haircuts when they needed it. He once said he loved cutting Blaine's hair because it was "wonderfully wavy." _

_"__I can't believe you let your hair get this long," Kurt murmured._

_"__I've been busy," Sam said._

_Finn put his arms around Stevie and Stacey._

_"__I love that we're all here like this. We don't see each other enough."_

_Stacey sighed and lay her head on Finn's shoulder:_

_"__I know. Sometimes I get lonely in Kentucky."_

_Stevie squeezed Finn's knee._

_"__Tell you what, let's all make an effort to see each other more in the new year. Maybe we can do a few long weekends at Blackberry Farm or something."_

_"__I'm down for that," Sam said, "I think Mercedes and Abby would like that too."_

_"__Me too," Kurt said, lifting a lock of Sam's hair and cutting it._

_After Kurt finished cutting his hair, he blow-dried it, and handed Sam a mirror to look at the result. Sam studied himself in the mirror and saw how much better he looked. Kurt kept it basic, since he knew his taste. Stacey whistled._

_"__You'll have to fight the ladies off."_

_"__There's only one lady I'm concerned with and she's down the hall," Sam said, blushing as he handed Kurt the mirror, "Thanks, Kurt, it looks good."_

_ "__Of course it does," Kurt said in that arrogant manner of his, "I could open a barbershop if I wanted to. He then touched Sam's cheek and grimaced. "I'm giving you a shave too. This whole 'roll out of bed thing' simply doesn't work for you." _

_Sam was offended._

_"__I'm capable of shaving myself."_

_"__Don't get your panties in a bunch. Consider it a Christmas gift. Mercedes will appreciate it. I got all the supplies here."_

_"__Alright," Sam said, touching his 5 o'clock shadow, "You can give me a fancy shave."_

_Finn looked at him, his eyes sad._

_ "__Be kind to yourself. You're a great guy and you have a good woman."_

_"__He's right," Stevie said._

_Sam looked at his siblings, and his heart felt full of gratitude. He stood up, opening his arms wide, "Group hug."_

_Kurt rolled his eyes and pretended the request was beneath him, but Sam knew it was all for show. Finn, Stacey and Stevie stood up and walked over to Sam and soon all of them formed a circle with their arms wrapped around each other. _

_"__If we were underwater, this would be like Prince of Tides," Finn said, making everyone laugh. When the chuckles died down, Sam said:_

_"__It's been a horrible year for me. And I just want to say how much I love and appreciate all of you. You helped me get through it."_

_There were quiet "I love you's" exchanged among them in the tight circle of love they formed. Kurt was the first to break the circle._

_"__I hate to kill a moment, but I need to get the shaving supplies," he said, as he gently disengaged himself from the massive hug. Sam saw a tear trickle down his brother's milky pale cheek and knew his declaration touched him._

_"__You're crying," he pointed out._

_Kurt brushed away the tear on his cheek._

_"__Dust allergies."_

_"__Awww, Kurtie has a heart," Stacey said, teasing him, "It's ok, we won't tell Blaine."_

_They laughed again as they broke the hug, and a few tears were shed. Kurt left and returned with his shaving supplies: a high-end badger brush, a straight razor with a teak wood handle, a can of shaving cream, a bottle of pre-shave oil, and a leather razor strop. As Sam lied back in the recliner across from Stacey's bed, Kurt performed the art of a barbershop shave. First he sprayed Sam's face with water, then he applied the pre-shave oil, massaging it into his face. Sam closed his eyes, feeling completely mellow._

_"__Stacey, go make a hot towel, will you?" Kurt said._

_A few minutes later, Stacey returned with a hot towel and Kurt put it on Sam's face. _

_"__Lie there and relax," he said to Sam, "I'm going to prepare the shaving cream and sharpen the razor."_

_Sam was almost asleep when Kurt finally removed the towel and began applying the shaving cream with the badger brush in a vigorous circular motion against the grain._

_"__You know," Finn said, rubbing his cheek, "I'm a little scruffy myself. Give me a shave too."_

_"__I could use one too," Stevie said, "Help us out, bro."_

_Kurt looked up and sighed like an old man put upon by life's demands._

_"__Very well, gentlemen. I'll give you each a shave after I finish with Sam," he said, then glanced over at Stacey who sat in the middle of the bed, combing out her long blonde hair, "Do you need a shave too?"_

_"__Are you saying I have facial hair?"_

_Kurt laughed._

_"__I'm only joking. You know you should do hair shows. Your hair is beautiful."_

_"__Oh, please, I couldn't sit still that long" Stacey said. _

_"__That model thing isn't what it's cracked up to be," Sam said, thinking of his modeling days, "People aren't genuine."_

_Kurt turned Sam's head to the side, and began to shave his face, gently stretching his skin, as he guided the razor along, following the direction of his hair growth._

_"__It's our Humble Hummel blood," he said, "It makes us genuine." _

_"__Mercedes is genuine," Sam said, thinking of his woman. So many times he saw her genuine, kind heart. The way she dealt with Abby, and how she was so patient with those kids at the Remington School amazed him. And little things touched her like a pretty sunset or the sparkle of an icicle hanging from the eaves of the house. Only a genuine soul would notice those simple treasures._

_"__She is," Stevie agreed, nodding his head, "I really enjoyed spending time with her and Abby today."_

_"__I'm glad y'all like her. She's very special to me," Sam said._

_After Kurt finished shaving him, he covered Sam's face with a cold towel, then rubbed his face with an alum block; and then he applied a citrus-smelling aftershave called Serge Lutens L'Eau. Kurt stepped back and clapped his hands._

_"__Voila! You are now, clean-shaven, and your haircut is perfect. Mercedes won't know what to do with herself."_

_"__Thanks, Kurt."_

_"__Anytime, little brother, anytime."_

As Sam smiled at the memory of the afternoon's events, he picked up her earring once again.

"I'm a lucky man," he whispered.

* * *

><p><strong><em>THIS LITTLE LIGHT OF MINE<em>**

As Mercedes enjoyed a cup of tea before getting ready for her date with Sam, Abby came into their room, holding a picture she drew. After an afternoon of sledding, Rachel had the children settle down with some "quiet time activities" and in the family room they worked on various arts and crafts projects. Abby decided to draw a picture with colored pencils. Even though Rachel could be a drama queen, she was growing on Mercedes, and she was good with the kids, especially Abby.

Setting down her mug, Mercedes took the picture.

"You drew this for me?"

Abby nodded and sat down beside her. Mercedes studied the picture. It showed her and Abby standing next to a Christmas tree with lots of presents, holding hands, and Sam was beside them playing the guitar. But what she saw at the top of the drawing, broke Mercedes' heart, above the Christmas scene was Shane, dressed as Santa and he had wings; he looked down on them, with arms open wide. Abby pointed to Shane.

"I miss him too," Mercedes said.

Abby leaned against her, her small brown fingers made a path from Shane to Sam and ended on her and her mother. At first Mercedes was confused, but then she understood.

"Yes, we're all together here on earth with Sam, but your father is watching us. He's not going away."

Abby hugged Mercedes and she was reminded of a past Christmas.

_"__Baby, is she still sleep?_

_"__Shane you know Abby sleeps like a rock. We'll get this bike finished by morning."_

_Shane spread the instructions out on the living room floor, then he looked perplexed. Mercedes touched his arm._

_"__What's wrong?"_

_"__These darn instructions are in Chinese." _

_Mercedes laughed._

_"__The English version is probably on the other side."_

_Shane turned the paper over._

_"__These are in Spanish." He looked at Mercedes._

_"__Houston, we have a problem."_

_The two of them laughed and he pulled her off the couch, gathering her in his arms._

_"__Make a strong pot of coffee, we're in for a long night."_

_"__Christmas comes but once a year Santa"_

_"__Yeah but this Santa has no elves."_

_Mercedes kissed him._

_"__You got me."_

_He held her close_

_"__That's even better."_

_"__We should get started."_

_"__I love you," Shane said, kissing her, his hands gliding up and down her back._

_"__I love you, too."_

_ "__You're looking all kinds of sexy in this Mickey Mouse nightgown."_

_Mercedes giggled._

_"__Am I?"_

_ "__Yes, Lord. Do you think we can – "_

_"__What about the bike?"_

_He nuzzled her soft neck._

_"__I'm your handyman, I'll figure it out."_

_"__That you are."_

Mercedes' felt hollow as she broke out of her reverie; she rubbed Abby's back until her daughter pulled away from her, picked up the picture, and pointed to Sam.

"I like Sam," Mercedes said, "Don't you?"

Abby nodded and pointed to Shane.

"I'll never stop loving your father and neither will you. You know what the greatest thing about your father was?"

Abby touched her heart.

"That's right," Mercedes said, blinking away her tears, "It was his heart. It was so big that he let a lot of people in; and you're just like him, Abby. Your heart is big like your father's and you can love many people."

Abby looked up at her and Mercedes understood the question in her eyes.

"It's ok to let Sam in," she said.

Abby snuggled on her mother's lap and Mercedes sang the song Shane used to sing to their daughter until the day he died.

_This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.  
>This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.<br>This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.  
>Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.<em>

Something shifted in the air of the room as she sang, a stillness that she was certain Abby felt too. She rocked to and fro, her arms tightly wound around her child, and flashes of Shane zipped through her mind: cooking pancakes on Sunday morning, helping Abby build a tree house in the back yard, coming home with flowers for no particular reason…

And Shane's light shined in that room.

"Merry Christmas, Shane," Mercedes whispered into the stillness and light. Abby looked up at her mother with tear-filled eyes, and eased out of her arms. She reached into the pocket of her overalls, pulled out her glittery pink notepad, and wrote a note:

_Daddy is here._

Mercedes nodded, hugging her daughter tight.

* * *

><p><strong><em>FAIRY GODSISTERS<em>**

Mercedes was about to curl her hair, when a knock came on her bedroom door, for a second she wondered if it was Sam. She set the curling iron down on the bathroom sink and went to see whom it was. She opened the door and saw Stacey, Rachel, and Helen standing before her, holding a make-up case, a footbath, and a fold-up manicure table.

"Good, you're not ready," Stacey said, looking Mercedes up and down, as she pushed into the room.

"What's going on?"

"We're here to pamper you," Helen said placing the footbath on the floor.

"Pamper me?"

"Yes, pamper you," Rachel said, sitting her big, pink make-up case on the dresser.

"I know how to get ready," Mercedes said, "I'm not helpless."

"Honey, please," Stacey said, "We get that, but we just thought – "

"We thought it would be fun to help you get ready for your date," Rachel said, "Sam talks about how hard you work and well, every woman needs a spa day, and since we don't have time for that, you'll have to settle for a spa hour."

Mercedes shook her head and smiled, though she's only known them for two days, she already loved these women. Abby watched quietly from the bed where she was reading a book about birds. Rachel smiled at her.

"Would you like to help us get your mother ready?"

Abby smiled back at her, closed her book, and went to Rachel, standing next to her near the dresser.

"I feel like Cinderella," Mercedes said, overwhelmed with gratitude for such a kind gesture.

"Then we're your fairy god sisters," Helen said, pulling the cherry wood chair away from the window and patting the cushion, "Have a seat, milady."

Mercedes sat down and the spa hour began. Stacey unfolded the manicure table and set it in front of her. Helen went to the bathroom to fill the footbath with warm water. Rachel began applying a green tea and honey facemask to her face.

"I made this myself and it's chock full of antioxidants," she said as she gently rubbed the mixture onto Mercedes' face, "Your skin is already pretty and this will make it glow."

"It smells heavenly," Mercedes said.

Rachel turned to Abby, nodding toward her make-up case.

"Inside that case is a timer, could you please set it for 15 minutes."

Abby retrieved the timer and set it, and then Rachel instructed her to get a few wash clothes and towels from the bathroom.

"Let me see your hands," Stacey said, and Mercedes obliged, holding them out for her inspection. Stacey sighed as she surveyed her poor nail-bitten hands.

"You're too beautiful to have hands like this. But don't fret, I'll whip'em into shape. You're getting a sweet almond manicure," Stacey said, squeezing her hands a little, "You'll be amazed."

"I'm holding you to that," Mercedes said, smiling up at her, "I do have a bad nail-biting habit.

Helen returned with the footbath and placed it by Mercedes' bunny slipper clad feet. She knelt on the floor.

"These are cute but I need to take them off," she said, as she removed her slippers, revealing Mercedes, poor, neglected feet, "You're getting a Helen Hummel Deluxe Pedicure."

Stacey began working on her nails. She trimmed the jagged edges first and then shaped them with a nail file. When she was finished, she went to the bathroom and filled a large bowl with water, upon returning, she placed the bowl on the table and placed a smaller bowl inside which she filled with sweet almond and jojoba oil.

"Put your fingertips in the small bowl," she said to Mercedes.

Mercedes dipped her hands into the fragrant oil and sighed, breathing in the luxurious aroma. After a few minutes Stacey added warm water to the small bowl and it turned into a milky white solution.

"Swirl your fingertips," Stacey said.

Mercedes swirled her fingertips in the milk bath, and after soaking for a few more seconds, Stacey removed her hands and dried them with a towel. Just then the timer went off, and Rachel gently removed the green tea and honey mask with a warm washcloth. Helen cut and filed Mercedes' toenails; and afterwards, put her feet into the footbath, with warm, rippling water that smelled like roses. Mercedes enjoyed the vibrating bath and closed her eyes. Rachel used a NuVita facial massager on Mercedes' face and neck and the calming sensation felt so good against her skin that she let out a relaxed sigh. Rachel looked down at Abby, who stood next to her; and was fascinated with the device.

"Would you like to try?" Rachel asked her.

Abby nodded and took the facial massager, waiting for instructions on what to do next.

"Press it gently against her face."

Abby stood on a stool, and with Rachel's careful eye watching her, she massaged her mother's face, giggling while using the device.

"Abby is a great little helper," Stacey said as she pushed back Mercedes' cuticles with a cuticle stick, "And just as pretty as her Mama."

Abby blushed at the praise and returned the facial massager to Rachel.

"Thank you, Abby," she said, "Why don't you pick out some pretty colors of nail polish you think your mother might like. I have a whole bunch of different colors in my make-up case."

Abby went to the dresser, opened up the case, and began to choose from Rachel's selection of nail polish. Helen removed Mercedes' feet from the footbath and dried them.

"I think this is going to be more like an hour and a half spa," she said, while applying cuticle remover to Mercedes' toenails, "But we have time."

"Thanks so much for all of this," Mercedes said, "I feel so pampered and relaxed."

Stacey washed Mercedes' hands with the warm bowl of water on her table, and then used a manicure nipper to remove any dead skin. "You're welcome. I can't wait to see Sam's face when we're finished."

"I hope you have fun tonight," Helen said as she pushed back her toenail cuticles with an orangewood stick, "I heard that Sir Walter Raleigh's is a nice place."

"We could go to McDonald's and I would have a good time," Mercedes said, "I just love spending time with him."

"Somebody's whipped," Stacey said, as she rubbed cuticle eraser and solar oil onto Mercedes' nails, "But my brother has that effect on women."

"He has a big effect on me, that's for sure," Mercedes said winking at her, as Stacey rubbed almond moisture scrub onto her hands, rinsed them in a milk bath, and wiped away the scrub with a sponge.

Mercedes basked in the attention they showered on her. Growing up with Aunt Josephine deprived her of many "girly" pleasures. Her aunt was kind and loving, but she didn't have time to indulge Mercedes with beauty tips and girl talk. Since they lived off her salary alone, she often worked two jobs to support them. And when her aunt fell ill when Mercedes was in high school, and had to stay home and recover, Mercedes sang at nightclubs, weddings, and funerals, just to keep them afloat. During her junior year, when everyone else was at the prom, Mercedes was singing at a bar mitzvah on the other side of town. People liked her well-enough in high school, but she was never popular, and party invitations were never extended to her, so she learned to stay on the periphery of everyone's consciousness. She had acquaintances; girls she passed in the hallway and said hello to, but nothing more than that. When she went to college, she made friends, but they lost touch, and then she married Shane and had Abby, and though she was friendly with the other teachers at Lima Elementary and even had drinks with them; she never felt that female bonding closeness she craved.

"Mercedes, how are you wearing your hair? Up or down?" Rachel asked her.

"She's wearing it down, per Sammy's instructions," Stacey said, "Are you styling it?"

"Yes, but I want to do her make-up first."

Mercedes hated to kill the vibe, so she kept her mouth shut, but she wondered if Rachel was used to doing African-American hair; it wasn't a big deal, really it wasn't, and Rachel was being such a sweetheart, yet part of her wondered. Rachel ran her hands, through Mercedes' clean, blow-dried hair.

"I love how thick it is. It reminds me of my cousin's hair. You know you two resemble each other except she's a little darker."

"I do?"

Mercedes' confusion about her resemblance to her cousin, suddenly registered with Rachel and she laughed.

"One of my fathers is black."

"Oh, I see," Mercedes said.

"Yes, and I'm close to his brother's kids, especially my cousin Nia, and that's who you remind me of, we used to have sleepovers and do each other's hair."

Mercedes looked up at her.

"That's so sweet. I've never had a sleepover."

"Are you serious?" Helen asked as she scrubbed Mercedes' feet with a pumice stone, getting rid of the calluses, "That's on the agenda for next year. We're having a sleepover, drinking wine, eating junk food and watching rom-coms."

"I'm in," Stacey said while she drizzled a warm, thick, shimmering, pale gold liquid, onto Mercedes' hands and spread it evenly on the top of both hands with a facial brush applicator, "We can go somewhere fun and y'all can leave the kids with your husbands."

Mercedes loved the warm feeling of the liquid and asked Stacey what it was.

"It's a moisture masque for your hands," Stacey explained and wrapped Mercedes' hands in two clean towels, "That needs to set a bit."

While Mercedes' hands were wrapped in the masque treatment, Stacey helped Rachel do her make-up by handing her the various cosmetics as she needed them and making suggestions. Abby showed Mercedes the nail polish colors she thought would look best. They were three different shades of red. Mercedes chose the brightest shade of red because she felt bold, and Abby smiled at her choice, nodding in agreement. Helen massaged wild rose foot cream into Mercedes' feet, making them soft and supple.

"Helen, my feet have never felt so good," Mercedes said, "And they look pretty too."

Helen nodded.

"They'll look even prettier after I paint them."

Helen took the bright red polish, aptly called Frankly, Scarlett, and began to paint her toenails. Rachel and Stacey finished her make-up, but they wouldn't let Mercedes see their creation until she was dressed with her hair done. They wanted it to be a surprise.

"Trust me, you look gorgeous," Rachel said to her, "Where's your curling iron?"

"In the bathroom."

Rachel left and came back with the curling iron and a jar of olive oil moisturizer. She plugged in the curling iron, and while it was heating up, she combed her thick tresses with a wide toothcomb. By now, Helen finished painting her toenails, and Mercedes' feet, which she often considered rather ugly, actually looked beautiful.

"Thank you, Helen."

"You're welcome," she said squeezing her shoulder.

Stacey unwrapped her hands, wiped away the masque with a sponged dipped in warm water and dried them. Then she rubbed almond moisturizer into her hands and began painting her nails with the bold red polish. Rachel curled Mercedes' hair, taking care not to leave the iron on too long on each section of hair, and soon her hair was in a mass of curls. Mercedes wanted to see how it looked, but she waited as promised. Rachel applied the olive oil moisturizer to her hair when she was finished. Her nails were completed soon after. They looked as wonderful as her feet.

"Thank you, Stacey, my nails look awesome!"

"Well, I do aim to please, now get dressed and no peeking."

It was difficult, but Mercedes managed not to look at herself in the bathroom mirror as she put on her pantyhose and slipped on the dress. She needed help zipping it up, so she went into the bedroom.

"Could somebody zip me up?" she asked.

Stacey zipped her up and helped her put on the opal and diamond pendant necklace.

Mercedes was _finally _ready.

Everyone looked at her with big smiles, holding their hands to their hearts like proud mothers when they see their children's first dance recital. Even Abby's face beamed with pride as she gazed upon her mother.

"Well, fairy god sisters, how do I look?"

"See for yourself," Helen said and uncovered the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.

Mercedes walked over to the mirror and stared at herself. She couldn't believe it. Her lips were red and enticing, her cheeks had a rosy glow, and her eyes shimmered with baroque sateen eye shadow; her hair cascaded down her back in soft curls; and the blue silk chiffon dress clung to every curve, she turned and it billowed out, showing off her thick legs encased in the sleek pantyhose; and the necklace sparkled around her neck, rested just above the valley of her cleavage.

"I can't believe that's me," she whispered, "Thank you so much."

They gathered around her oohing and aahing, primping and patting, and then strong hugs followed with a few happy tears. Abby hugged her mother tight, looking up at her with bright eyes.

"I guess mommy is Cinderella tonight, huh?"

"You're missing an earring," Rachel said, pointing to her ear.

"It's ok, I'll get it later," Mercedes said.

Stacey pointed to the clock radio on the dresser.

"It's 5:45, you better get moving."

Mercedes held Abby's hand.

"I'm ready."

* * *

><p><strong><em>ANGEL IN A BLUE DRESS<em>**

When Sam saw Mercedes walk down the stairs wearing that blue silk dress and smiling at him like he was the only one she saw in the room; his heart flipped.

Damn, she was beautiful.

Radiant.

She was like that first glimpse of sunrise when the sky turned gold.

And she gazed at him as if he were her sunrise too. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, he couldn't hold back any urges he had; he didn't care about propriety or Emily Post manners or any of that stuff that restrained you. He pulled that exquisite, beautiful, wonderful, angel of a woman, into his arms and kissed her like no one was watching. Then he stepped back, gazing at her flushed face and glazed over eyes, her voluptuous curves wrapped in blue silk chiffon, her lips a glorious red and her shiny black hair in all those curls, hanging loose and free down her back like a fairytale princess, and he couldn't imagine spending another day without her.

"God Almighty, you're beautiful," he whispered, touching her cheek.

He thought he heard his brothers and sister saying they better get a move on because they had reservations, and his parents wishing them a good night and to drive safe…

That's what he thought he heard, but he wasn't listening that closely because all he could concentrate on was the thumping in his chest and her slow, steady breathing as she stared at him, and her sweet almond rose scent that enchanted him. Somehow he got their coats from the closet and he waved over his shoulder at his family and they were about to walk out the door, when she stopped him:

"I need to kiss Abby good night."

Sam understood. How could he forget Abby? He felt bad and followed Mercedes as she walked over to Abby who sat on the stairs watching them.

"You be good, Abby, you hear me?"

Abby nodded and hugged her mother. Mercedes kissed her cheek.

"I love you."

Abby kissed her and let go, her eyes shining. Carol put her arm around the little girl.

"Don't worry about Miss Abby; she'll be fine here with us. And we're texting you every hour."

"Abby, me and your mother will be back soon, ok?" Sam said, looking down at her.

Abby gave him a tiny smile, opening her arms for a hug.

Tears welled up in his eyes when she did this; and he didn't hesitate to put his arms around her, hugging her to his heart, "You be good sugar plum."

When they finished their good-byes, Mercedes thanked Carol and as she and Sam walked to the front door; he remembered something. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her diamond stud earring.

"I think this belongs to you."

She took the earring and was about to put it on when he stopped her. He brushed away her hair from her left ear and gently put it in her ear lobe, fastening it securely, kissing her soft neck before her backed away; he then took her by the hand, and led her outside into the cold winter evening.

**ooo**

For some reason, Sam was tongue-tied as they drove to the restaurant. He felt shy. Mercedes squeezed his shoulder.

"You're awfully quiet."

"I'm sorry, I just hope we don't run into any traffic," he said, lying through his teeth. Dusk Hollow never had traffic.

"You look really handsome. I like your haircut."

This made him feel warm inside like hot chocolate on a cold day.

"Thanks. Kurt cut it. He gave me a fancy barbershop shave too."

And then she did what Sam thought was the most awesome thing ever, she reached over and stroked his cheek, her small hands feeling the silkiness of his skin.

"It's smooth. I like it."

"Thank you."

"And your suit is nice too."

"Got it at an outlet," he said and paused for a moment, "I can't get over how beautiful you look."

He glanced at her, and even in the dark car, he knew she was blushing.

"Thank you, Sam," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, and cracking just a little.

**ooo**

Sam hoped that the Sir Walter Raleigh Inn lived up to its rave reviews on yelp dot com. When they walked into the restaurant, hand in hand, he couldn't stop grinning, or stop the giant army of butterflies fluttering around in his belly; Mercedes squeezed his hand, and this calmed him down. The maître d' seated them quickly since they had a reservation. He put them in a private dining room as Sam requested.

Mercedes was impressed with the décor. Paintings of blue oceans and wildflower filled meadows hung on the ivory-colored walls, and three-tiered silver and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Crisp white tablecloths covered the round dark wood tables, and in the center of each table was a large crystal bowl filled with water with the tops of fresh white roses and white floating candles bobbing on the surface.

"Sam, this place is fabulous."

"I'm glad you like it," he said, pulling out her chair for her.

"And you got us a private dining room too!"

Sam sat down next to her, taking her hand.

"I wanted our first date to be special."

"This is beyond special; this is just… just wonderful."

Sam leaned over and kissed her full red lips.

A waiter entered the room; he was an older man, around 60 years old, and dressed in a white silk shirt, black tie and black dress pants, his graying hair was slicked back and he had piercing dark eyes. He had an accent that Sam couldn't quite place.

"Good evening, Sir and Madam, welcome to the Sir Walter Raleigh Inn. My name is Jacque and I will be your server this evening. Could I interest you in a beverage as you peruse the menu?"

"I'll have a glass of white Zinfandel," Sam said.

Mercedes glanced at the wine list.

"I'll have the same."

"Very well" Jacque said, as he poured them each a glass of water and gave Mercedes a lingering stare. She looked at him and he looked away, embarrassed at being caught.

"Forgive me, madam, but I must say that dress is quite lovely. You look like the fabled bluebird of happiness, only more fetching."

Sam frowned at him.

"Could you get us our drinks? We're on a tight schedule."

"Very well, sir," he said and left the room.

Mercedes opened the black leather menu.

"He didn't mean any harm."

"I didn't like how he stared at you. Bluebird of happiness, my ass."

Mercedes laughed, squeezing his hand.

"Old men with weird accents aren't my thing."

"So what is your thing?"

"Oh, a certain handsome green-eyed blond, with lovely, plump lips, and a wonderful smile, who cares about his family and the people he loves. He believes in God, and tries to do the right thing even when it's hard, and he's willing to take a chance on a widow with a beautiful 8-year old daughter. You might know him."

Her words moved him, and he reached over, pulling her close and kissed her. When he pulled away, he said:

"Yeah, I think I know him. But you got one thing wrong."

"What's that?"

"It's not taking a chance when you know in your heart it's a sure thing," he said and kissed her again.

When Jacque returned with the wine, he also brought a basket of dinner rolls, lightly browned and warm from the oven, and a small dish of sweet creamed butter, placing everything on the table he said:

"Will you be needing more time to order?"

"No, we're ready," Sam said.

They both chose Caesar salads and bowls of crab bisque soup for starters, and for the main course, Mercedes ordered grilled lamp chops with roasted rosemary beets and sautéed spinach, and Sam ordered the balsamic rosemary marinated steak florentine with garlic mashed potatoes with caramelized onions, and oven roasted asparagus sprinkled with parmesan flakes. After Jacque left, they sipped their wine and munched on the dinner rolls with whipped sweet butter. Sam's nervousness disappeared, and he just enjoyed the company of his woman.

"Tell me something crazy about yourself," he said.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something nobody knows."

"Hmmm, let's see," she said, tilting her head to the side, "I used to work for a phone sex line."

Sam almost spit out his wine, but then he saw how she giggled and knew it was a joke.

"You had me for a split second," he said, clearing his throat.

"I know," she said, clapping her hands, "That was priceless!"

"No, but really I want to know something nobody knows about you."

Mercedes took a sip of wine.

"Growing up with my Aunt Josephine wasn't always easy. She worked two jobs and I was home alone a lot. When I was 13, we lived next door to this family. The Hathaways. They were your American dream family with a nice house, baby twin girls, and even a dog. Sometimes I would pretend like I was a part of their family. I became a big sister to the baby girls and a perfect daughter for Mrs. Hathaway who was a stay at home Mom who baked cookies and planted a flower garden, and to Mr. Hathaway who left everyday wearing a suit. The crazy thing is, they barely saw me. I had to stay in the house most of the time, so I just watched them from my bedroom window, coming and going. It was a comforting fantasy because I felt so alone."

Sam held her hand, his heart broke for the lonely little girl Mercedes once was.

"That's sad."

"It was. But things got better for me eventually."

Sam kissed her, caressing her face.

"Thanks for sharing that with me."

"You're welcome. Now it's your turn."

"When I was in high school, I was really popular – "

Mercedes smirked, interrupting him.

"Big surprise."

Sam kissed her temple.

"There's more to the story, sweetheart. Anyway, I was a popular jock, played football, dated a hot girl named Keira, did some modeling, and I was miserable. I was a jerk that went along with the crowd and bullied the losers. One of my team mates created a website that rated all the girls at Dusk Hollow High, kind of like Rate My Teacher dot com. One girl rated the lowest for the _entire school_, her name was Callie Brewster, and she won the title of The Beast and Keira, was rated the highest and she was named The Beauty. We covered Callie's locker with pictures of Chewbacca, and dumped dog food on her lunch tray."

Mercedes' eyes grew sad as she listened to his story.

"That's horrible."

"I know. But that's not the end."

"Tell me it gets better."

"You'll have to judge for yourself."

"Ok."

"I admit that Callie wasn't a head-turner, but she was certainly no beast. She was rail thin, and mousy, with bucked teeth, and ugly clothes. I felt bad about the stuff I was doing, because I knew what it was like to be bullied, since I was bullied and called Trouty Mouth in junior high, but I kept doing it to fit in, that was more important to me than hurting a girl's feelings. Kurt and Finn were away at college, but they found out what was going on; they didn't tell our parents, but they called me an asshole and said we were taught to be better than that. And they were right."

Mercedes picked up another dinner roll and tore it in half.

"What happened next?" she asked as she buttered the roll.

"Prom is what happened. Despite winning The Beast title and being bullied, Callie came to the Prom alone, wearing an awful, frilly, purple dress. Her face was covered in clownish make-up and her hair was in frizzy curls. You could tell she made an effort to be 'pretty' but failed. She sat alone; nobody talked to her or danced with her, and she did something courageous, she danced alone to all the songs, slow and fast, and she even smiled, and when I saw her courage, I saw her beauty. Kids at the Prom still treated her like crap, but she kept dancing anyway."

"That took guts," Mercedes said.

"Yes it did. Anyway, Keira and I were crowned Prom King and Queen, and when the spotlight fell on us for our victory dance; I saw Callie standing in the crowd, her cheap corsage was wilted and someone had thrown punch on her dress, but she stood there admiring us, and I couldn't be that awful person anymore. I was better than that. So I walked over to Callie and said: 'I'm sorry for everything I've done to you. I hope you can forgive me. I just want to say that you look beautiful. Would you like to dance?' She was shocked. I mean really shocked and so was everyone else. While Keira yelled at me, I took Callie's hand, and we danced to the Tennessee Waltz because that's a Dusk Hollow High tradition for the Prom King and Queen. After our dance ended, I gave back my crown and Keira dumped me. That Monday, I quit the football team. I stopped modeling and hanging out with the popular crowd. Callie and I became friends and I joined the Glee Club."

"Glee Club?"

"Yeah, I like singing. It was the least popular club in school, but I liked those kids a lot better than my former so-called friends. We got harassed but we survived. And my family saw how much happier I was."

"Wow."

"Are you surprised?"

"Yes, because knowing the man you are now, I could never imagine you being intentionally cruel. I'm glad you saw the light and changed. Whatever happened to Callie?"

"After we graduated, she went to the University of Alaska because that was a dream of hers. She worked her way through college, got braces, got married, and became a biology professor. She has 6 kids. You know what she told me that still gets me to this day?"

"What?"

"She said on the night of the Prom she wanted to kill herself. That she wondered why she was born and why she was a beast. Then she heard a song on the radio, Beautiful, and she started singing along, and she put down the bottle of pills, got dressed and went to the Prom; and those times she was smiling while she danced, she was singing that song in her head. Then when I asked her to dance she saw that I didn't' pity her, that I actually thought she was beautiful."

Sam let the tears fall when he revealed that last part of his story; Mercedes hugged him.

"Thanks for opening up to me."

"You're welcome. Thanks for listening. I didn't mean to talk so much. I've never told that story before. I learned so much from Callie and she helped me grow as a person. I'm so thankful she didn't take those pills. If you saw her now, you would never think she was ever that girl; and her family is beautiful."

They hugged until Jacque entered the room with their crab bisque soup and Caesar salads. The food smelled good, and Sam's stomach grumbled.

"I'm starving," he said as Jacque placed his soup in front of him.

"I am too," Mercedes said, unfolding her napkin; "It looks delicious."

Jacque clasped his hands in front of him.

"Will you be needing anything else at this present time?"

"No, we're good for now," Sam said.

"Bon appétit," Jacque said with a little bow of his head and then he was gone.

The crab bisque was the best Sam ever tasted, with its smooth, creamy texture, large chunks of tender, sweet crabmeat, minced shallots, and the rich flavors of sherry, heavy cream and butter all combined together, created a wonderful soup, and Sam wondered if he could recreate the same thing at home, or perhaps make it even better. The Caesar salad was also quite good; he liked the bright leafy greens, crisp cucumbers and red onions tossed in a simple Caesar dressing with tart lemon juice, spicy Dijon mustard, salty anchovies, and mild olive oil and topped with grated parmesan cheese. He and Mercedes practically inhaled the soup and salad, both murmuring to one another how good everything was.

"Even the water is awesome. It tastes so pure," Mercedes said, sipping the water.

Sam chuckled.

"Well, according to the menu, they only serve fresh water from the Dusk Hollow springs about 10 miles from here."

She finished her glass of water.

"That explains it."

Moments later, Jacque arrived again, with their main courses, and refilled their water glasses.

"Would you care for more wine?"

"No, thank you," Mercedes said, dabbing her mouth with the napkin.

"I'm good," Sam said, eyeing the plate of food that Jacque set before him, black grill marks were striped across the juicy, marinated porterhouse steak, the garlic mashed potatoes were creamy white with browned caramelized onions mixed in; and the grilled asparagus had black charred marks on the tips and thin, yellow parmesan flakes were generously sprinkled on top. He wanted to take a picture of it and post it on Facebook.

Mercedes pointed to his plate.

"That looks delicious."

"So does yours."

Her lamb chops were crisscrossed with black grill marks and dressed with white paper frills; the vibrant green sautéed spinach was delicately wilted with no traces of sogginess; and the thick squares of roasted purple beets were sprinkled with fresh rosemary and had a slightly glossy sheen.

"I'm so taking a picture of this," She said, getting her phone out of her purse.

"I was thinking the same thing," Sam said, laughing as they both snapped pictures; and then he pointed his phone at her, "There's another picture I want to take. Say cheese."

Mercedes smiled and he took a few pictures. Then he told her to stand up.

"Since I'm a typical male. I like full body shots."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and laughed. She stood up and posed like she was doing a photo shoot, putting her hand on her hip, and strutting like a runway model. Sam snapped a lot of pictures. Then he put his phone down on the table, stood up, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her.

"That's for being amazing," he whispered.

She rested her head on his shoulder.

"I've been having such a wonderful time and the night isn't even over."

"I am too."

"I'm taking your picture after we eat," she said sitting back down, "I can't let all your fineness go to waste."

"Yes that would be a crime," Sam said, winking at her, as he cut into his steak.

The main courses were even better than the soup and salad. His steak was grilled medium-rare and was tender and flavorful, the balsamic marinade and rosemary blended well together. The garlic-mashed potatoes were buttery and smooth and the caramelized onions were soft with a mild sweetness. The asparagus was grilled just right and he loved the sharp bite of the parmesan flakes. He and Mercedes ate off each other's plates and he sampled her lamp chops while she helped herself to his mashed potatoes.

Jacque returned just as they were finished eating.

"Could I interest you in dessert? Or coffee or tea perhaps?"

Sam glanced at his phone. It was 7:30. He looked at Mercedes.

"Sweetheart, we better get going," he said and turned to Jacques, "Could you do us a favor?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Would you take our picture?"

"Of course."

Sam handed his phone to Jacque and put his arm around Mercedes, holding her tightly against his side. Jacque smiled at them.

"Now, he said, "Snuggle up and say diamonds!"

"Diamonds?" Mercedes said, "Why?"

"It opens the mouth wider," Jacques said as if it were obvious. He took a few pictures of them, and handed the phone back to Sam, "If you don't need anything else, I will bring you your check."

"Thank you," Sam said.

Mercedes looked at herself in her compact mirror.

"Oh, Sam, my lipstick is smudged."

Sam shrugged.

"That's your fault for having lips that are so damn kissable."

Mercedes touched up her lipstick, and took their coats off the coat rack behind her, handing Sam his coat she said:

"Have you seen Our Town before?"

He shook his head.

"No, I never went to the theater much. I don't even know what it's about. I hope it's good."

"You didn't Google it?"

"Nah, I like being surprised. I take it you've seen it before," he said, helping her put on her coat.

"I have. I think you'll like it."

Jacque returned with the check and a small box of complimentary chocolate mints to take with them. Sam was thankful he had the income to afford a dinner like this. The Sir Walter Raleigh Inn was far from cheap. After he paid the check and left a hefty tip, because despite Jacque leering at Mercedes, he was a good, attentive waiter; he took his woman by the hand and they left the restaurant.

**ooo**

The Dusk Hollow Community Theater was much nicer than Sam anticipated. He remembered the old-timers reminiscing about how great the theater once was when it was first built in 1938, but it closed down in 1978, remaining an eyesore downtown, until recently when money was raised to rebuild it in its original Art Deco style. He liked the nautical theme of the theater, and upon entering, it had a cruise ship feel to it with its long dark wood hand rails, and the black curling lines on the rosewood ceiling; he also admired the blue, red, and green peacock and seashell designs on its walls and the carpet with its circular swirls of red, green, blue and brown, connecting together like ocean waves. The seats were light blue velvet, with rosewood backs and arm rests. He was able to get good seats in the second row orchestra section. Mercedes thought the theater was beautiful and took a few pictures.

"It reminds me of an old movie," she said, smiling at him.

He kissed her cheek.

"The architecture is pretty nice," he said.

Sam noticed her checking her phone, and was happy to see that his mother had faithfully sent hourly texts as promised. Mercedes let him know that Abby and the kids were having a slumber party in the family room and Rachel was making popcorn balls and vegan pizza.

"I'm so glad she's having fun. Carol said she's fine. They're watching Frozen now."

"Glad to hear it." Sam said, as the lights dimmed and the light blue velvet curtains on stage slowly opened.

"I hope you like it," Mercedes whispered.

Sam enjoyed the play. It was about a small town called Grover's Corners and the daily lives of its residents. No props were used on stage and when the characters performed chores, it was all pantomimed. Some of the characters were dead by the final third act, and were in the cemetery, looking down at the living, the character Emily in particular, touched Sam. After she died, she decided to re-live one day of her life, and chose her 12th birthday, despite the other dead people's warnings; when she re-lives the day, she sees how the living don't appreciate the simplistic beauty of life, so she returns to her grave angered by what she witnessed on earth. During Emily's good-bye monologue, Sam heard Mercedes recite it along with the actress on stage, word for word, in a hushed whisper, and the fact that she knew those beautiful words already, and the power of them, made him fall for her even harder. One of Emily's final lines, pierced Sam's heart, and spoken on Mercedes' lips, was even more touching.

_Oh, earth, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it - every, every minute? _

He reached for Mercedes hand, holding it tight, and saw that she was crying too.

"That always gets me," she said, looking at him, as the tears streamed down her face, "That's what I aim to do every day."

Sam hugged her. He had no words. Only emotions ran through him.

The cast received a standing ovation. Sam was sure he and Mercedes clapped the loudest. As they walked back to the car, arms wrapped around each other, snow began to fall: white, crystal flakes, like tiny whispers landed on their coats. Mercedes held out her hand, letting them melt in her palm.

"I guess I'm going to have to find another way to capture tonight. It was perfect."

Sam stopped in the middle of the parking lot and kissed her, holding her beautiful face between his hands.

"You don't need any mementos from tonight. Physical objects would only spoil it. It's the feelings we have right now, here in this moment, that's what you carry with you. You can't put that in a box or a card, that's something in your heart, and it runs through your veins."

They kissed once more and then went to the car. When they got in and buckled up, Sam turned on the heat full blast. Mercedes shivered beside him, though her face was glowing.

"Thank you so much for tonight. It was incredible."

"You're welcome. I had a wonderful time too. And we'll have many more."

"You're very sure of this, aren't you, Samuel Hummel?"

"As sure as I am that the sky is blue and the grass is green."

They fell silent after that, watching the snowfall, as they drove along the long, narrow roads leading back to the house.

"Mercedes?"

"Yes?"

"You knew Emily's monologue word for word, how many times did you see that play?"

"I only saw it once before tonight."

"Once?"

"Yes, back in college with Aunt Josephine for my birthday. I was so touched that I bought the play and read it and memorized that monologue."

"You keep surprising me."

"Is that good?"

"Hell yeah, it's good, it's like taking a journey and finding all these cool places you'd never think were there. I'm loving this journey."

"Me too."

* * *

><p><strong>END NOTES:<strong> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	5. Chapter 5

__**CHAPTER 5**

**SUMMARY:** Sam and Burt have a heart to heart talk about Sam's past and present; Mercedes has a run-in with her in-laws; the Hummels, Mercedes and Abby enjoy a German feast

**RATING:** Teen

**WARNING:** Cursing, brief sexual situation, mention of God

* * *

><p><strong><em>A FATHER'S WISDOM<em>**

The next morning Sam and Burt were in the kitchen making Lebkuchenherzen, a type of German gingerbread that was baked in the shape of hearts and then decorated with heartfelt sentiments written in colorful icing, expressing how you felt about the person to whom you give the heart. During the holiday season, it became a tradition for the Hummel men, to bake these hearts for their wives, or in Kurt's case, his husband, children, their mother and Stacey. They also baked hearts for those in the family whom had passed on. Sam and Burt usually baked the gingerbread together and then when it was done, all of the men gathered in the kitchen to decorate them. Each heart had two small holes at the top to loop a ribbon through it, so the person you give it to could wear it around their neck. Since Burt and Sam were such good bakers using an old family recipe, the hearts were never worn for long, and instead were gobbled up.

Sam rolled out the brown, spicy dough onto the large, floured pastry board, and together he and Burt cut out the hearts with a heart-shaped cookie cutter, piercing smalls holes at the top of each one. A snowstorm raged outside, but it was warm and pleasant in the kitchen, filled with the smells of the goose roasting in the oven for their German Christmas Feast later that day. Burt was always in charge of the roast goose.

"It's really coming down," his father said, glancing out the window, "You think it's safe for you to go back tonight?"

"It might let up, it's early yet," Sam said, placing the first batch of cookies onto the cookie sheet, "We'll see what happens."

"You have a good time last night?"

"The best."

"Figured you did. Heard you come in pretty late."

Sam gave Burt a sideways glance.

"Waiting up for me? I'm a little old for a curfew."

Burt smiled, patting his back.

"You'll learn when you have kids. You never stop being a parent. You could be 90 years old, stooped over with a hearing aid, and I'd still wait up for you."

The mention of having children clenched Sam's heart and he winced inside. He put the cookies in the oven and began rolling out the second batch, avoiding his father's eyes. Burt squeezed his shoulder.

"Hey, now, none of that. You _will _have children. It may not be the way you thought, but it doesn't mean you can't have them."

"I know, Papa, it's just that sometimes when I see my brothers with their kids, how Lucy has Finn's eyes or how Carrie looks like Kurt, I want a piece of myself in my child. Is that bad?"

"What about Abby?"

"What about her?" Sam asked, wondering where his father was going with this conversation.

"Let's say you and Mercedes get married, you're going to help raise her. Your ideals and character can be passed on through her; and if you end up adopting, you'll do the same for those children too. You give children morals and love and teach them how to be compassionate human beings. That means a hell of a lot more than eye color or height."

"You're right," Sam said, hugging his father.

"Of course I'm right. I didn't get to be this age by being a fool."

Sam laughed and they continued to make the cookies. They were quiet for a

while until Burt said:

"That Mercedes is something else."

Sam pressed the metal cookie-cutter into the dough.

"Yeah, she is," he said, then brought up another matter on his mind, "Papa, I need to thank you for something."

"What's that?"

"You never said 'I told you so' when I got a divorced."

"What could would it have done? No need for thanks."

"I should've –"

"Oh, no, we're not playing 'shoulda, woulda, coulda' today," Burt said as he poked two holes into one of the hearts, "You did exactly what you were supposed to do."

Sam glanced at him.

"How could marrying Quinn be the right thing?"

"Because you learned from it. I gave you my honest opinion about her. Yes, I wanted you to wait, but, Sam, you needed to live your life, and I respected that. As your Grandpa Hummel used to say: Aus Schaden wird man klug.

"Failure makes smart," Sam said, translating the cliché. Heinrich Hummel, his German immigrant grandfather, often recited a lot of proverbs, teaching them about life in his careful, stilted English, his thick accent coloring each word. Sam remembered him with his snow-white hair, and sparkling green eyes, stirring a pot of goulash on the kitchen stove and humming show tunes. He missed him terribly. Grandpa Hummel passed away when he was in college, not too long after his grandmother.

"You need failure to learn," Burt said.

"Even so, it hurt like hell. I'm still building myself back up."

"That's how life is, we rise and fall, but each step takes up closer to where we should be. I'm still learning, we all are."

The oven timer buzzed, and Sam took out the first batch of cookies. The aroma of ginger and molasses intermingled with the meaty scent of the goose roasting in the top oven; Sam placed them on the counter and put the second batch in the bottom oven, while Burt rolled out more dough.

"I'm glad we're getting time together like this, I've been worried about you and Finn said you weren't returning his calls and – "

"I just needed to lay low for a while."

"I know. I'm glad you're healing."

"I am too. I think this year is going to be better for me. I'm focused and – "

"And you're in love with Mercedes."

"Papa I – "

"Now, hold on, I know you haven't said it out loud, and you might not even know it, but I can see it and so can your Mama. What happens next is up to you."

"We're taking it slow."

"Hmmm," Burt said, "I figure she's healing too."

"Yes."

Burt put down the cookie cutter and faced his son.

"I've seen you with most of the women you've dated over the years. And you never looked at _any _of them, the way you look at Mercedes. Not even Quinn. I hope Abby continues to get better."

Sam thought about how Abby opened her arms for a hug last night and his heart melted and he wondered what it would be like to see her grow up.

"She's pretty special."

"I don't mean to pry, but do you think she will ever talk?"

"I've wrestled with that myself. I believe that she will when she's ready. Everybody heals in their own way; there's no magic potion or one size fits all solution."

Burt patted him on the back.

"A good way of looking at it. I love how she's getting along with all the other kids."

Just then Abby and Lucy walked into the kitchen, their faces painted like cats and each wore a headband with pink cat ears. Lucy was particularly fond of Abby, and the two formed a fast bond that fascinated Sam. The other day while the children were sledding, he noticed how Lucy seemed to understand Abby without the child having to write a lot of notes; and sometimes the two girls would simply look at each other and laugh, neither one saying a word. By the end of the afternoon, they were holding hands, and making snow angels. Even now, the two held hands. Mercedes often expressed how much she wanted Abby to make friends and this new development made their Christmas even merrier. They came over to the counter; Abby smiled at them, and Lucy pointed to the cookies.

"Hi PopPoP, Hi Uncle Sam. You're making the hearts?"

"You know very well that we are, Lucille Leona," Burt said, smiling down at them, "And before you ask, no, you can't have one now, they're for after dinner."

"Pretty please?" Lucy said, batting her eyelashes, and looking as cute as ever.

"You heard, PopPop," Sam said, "But there's plenty of fruit in the fridge."

Lucy looked at Abby.

"I tried."

They went to the fridge and Lucy pulled out two apples, and a bowl of grapes, chatting away to Abby.

"When the snow lets up we can go outside and build a snow fort with Lukas, Birdie, and Matt she said, as she handed Abby the bowl, for a moment she stopped speaking and stared at Abby, reading her expression, "Don't worry, I'm not mad at Matt anymore. He gave me back my glitter."

Abby nodded and smiled, and the two left the kitchen.

Burt put another batch of cookies in the oven.

"How does she do that?"

"I don't know," Sam said, "I was wondering the same thing. She just looks at Abby and knows how to respond."

"Female intuition, I guess."

Sam shrugged.

"Could be."

They were silent for a spell, working side by side, the winter winds howling outside. Burt mixed the ingredients for the icing and Sam got all the bottles of food coloring out of the cupboard, arranging them on the counter. He opened the drawers and took out the packages of satin ribbons. The red ribbons were for the living; while the white ones were for the deceased. Soon he would call his brothers into the kitchen and they would begin the ritual of decorating the cookies. This was the time they would tell stories about their lives, behind the doors sort of stories, that never left the kitchen, it wasn't bad stuff necessarily, just how they felt about the ups and downs of fatherhood, marriage, and everything else. And they told stories about those that had passed on, as each heart for them was decorated, a tiny celebration of their lives.

"You better call'em," Burt said.

"Ok."

As he was about to walk out of the kitchen, his father grabbed his arm.

"I've been saying prayers, and it looks like they were answered. Don't return the gifts God gave you, no matter what happens, you're the better for it. I can see life in your eyes again, and it makes my heart glad."

Sam was overcome by his father's words. The two embraced.

"I love you, Papa."

"I love you, too."

* * *

><p><strong><em>A MOTHER'S LOVE IS FIERCE<em>**

Mercedes turned on her laptop to Skype with Shane's parents, Pauline and Carter Tinsley. Abby was asleep beside her, after having an exhausting afternoon, building pillow forts in the living room and running a makeshift obstacle course Rachel created for them, since the snowstorm still raged outside, she didn't have the heart to wake her up.

Pauline appeared on screen, looking as prim and proper as ever. Her salt and pepper hair was neatly cut in a short afro that accentuated her high cheekbones. Her face was made up as if she were working at the Fashion Fair cosmetics counter at Macy's; heavy foundation, bright maroon lipstick, and reddish brown blush covered her face. She wore a tight, red sweater that looked too small for her large bosom. Mercedes imagined she smelled like Charlie perfume because she drowned herself in it every day.

Carter sat beside her, grim and pensive, his baldhead shining in the lamplight. He looked like Shane only older and much slimmer. He wore a mustard yellow V-neck sweater and his signature gold chain, and gold rings adorned his dark fingers. She and Shane used to laugh about his father's jewelry, especially the chains, which reminded her of a 70s disco for some reason. They called them "pimp chains" as a joke. The memory stabbed her heart as she stared at the chain around her father-in-law's neck. She managed to pull herself together and greet them.

"Hi Pauline, Hi Carter. Merry Christmas!"

Pauline nodded, staring at her.

"Where's the baby?"

"She's sleep."

"But we haven't seen her in months," Pauline said, folding her arms, obviously miffed, "Wake her up."

Mercedes was about protest, but then obliged, because it was true, they hadn't seen Abby for a long time. She gently shook her daughter awake.

"Come on, sweetie, wake up, Grandma and Grandpa want to speak with you."

Abby shook her head, burying herself back underneath the covers.

"No, baby girl, not today. I know you're tired, but they haven't seen you. They love you, Abby. Don't you want to see them?"

Abby sighed and yawned, she pushed back the covers, blinking up at her mother. Mercedes grabbed some wet naps out of her purse and wiped Abby's face, and quickly brushed her hair.

"You don't have to stay on long. Then you can go back to sleep. Now smile."

When Pauline and Carter saw Abby, they were overjoyed, waving and smiling. Though Abby was still half-asleep.

"Hello, baby, how's Grandma's sugar pie, doing? Did you have a good Christmas with those strange people?"

Mercedes knew Pauline was annoyed that they declined to spend Christmas with them, but she had her reasons and it was mainly because of Shane.

Abby nodded and gave a sleepy smile.

"That's good. Your presents were delivered on Christmas Eve. We hope you like them."

"Thank you, Pauline," Mercedes said, watching how Abby's eyes were closing. She poked her in the side and she sat up straighter.

"You're looking cute, are those cat ears?" Carter asked.

Abby nodded once more, touching the hat, and then glancing at her mother. Mercedes caved in.

"Pauline, Carter, I'm going to let her go back to sleep. I promise that later on this evening we'll Skype again when she's more alert."

"Very well, there's something we need to discuss anyway," Pauline said, "Have a good nap, Abby, we love you."

Mercedes tucked Abby back in and continued talking to her in-laws.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Why isn't she speaking yet?" Carter asked, shifting in his seat. Mercedes decided to go into the hallway so Abby wouldn't hear. Once she was in the hall, she sat on the floor.

"We're taking it one day at a time. You know that."

"What we know is that you up and leave her only home and spend Christmas with a strange family."

"They're nice people," Mercedes said, feeling defensive, "As for Abby, I'm taking her to a new therapist on Monday."

"I don't like it," Pauline said, "It's been a year and still no progress?"

"I thought you understood."

"We do. But she can't stay silent for the rest of her life. We played along, but this is getting to be a bit much."

"She saw Shane get shot 5 times!" Mercedes said, "What the hell do you want? You want her to act like that never happened? You want her to suddenly be who she was before, because, let me tell you something Pauline, that isn't happening any time soon, if ever."

"I want her to talk like a _normal_ child. You're an enabler."

"So are you," Mercedes said, her hands shaking as she clutched the laptop, "You've been doing the same thing I have."

"That was a mistake," Carter said, leaning forward, his gold rings flashing, "We think she should come live with us."

"What? Why?"

"You're making poor decisions, uprooting to some strange town, probably filled with rednecks and –"

"That's not true. And how would you know? You haven't been there. If you wanted to see Abby so bad, you both would've come."

Pauline became agitated, her big bosom shaking as she move around in her seat.

"What have you been doing to help Abby? Buying her notepads? Firing therapist after therapist –"

"You've got a lot of nerve, asking me what I've done. I've held her while she cried and screamed, night after night, and nothing I do will calm her down; sometimes she hides in the closet for hours because that's where she feels safe; Every time we see a teenage boy who looked like his killer, Abby freaks out. I have to gauge her moods. I pray, cry, and fight everyday just to keep my head above water, and you've got the audacity to ask what have I done. I've re-lived his death over and over again with Abby! And still I go to a demanding job, pay the bills, and raise my child, what have you done? Besides pass judgment and shame onto me? How dare you!"

"We never said it was easy," Pauline said, "We just think we're more emotionally stable to help her. Look, you're hysterical right now, your behavior proves our point."

Mercedes fought the urge to hurl her laptop against the wall.

"I'm hysterical because you accuse me of being an unfit mother and on top of that believe you are more capable of raising her. Nobody raises Abby except me. Do you understand? When it comes to my child, I'll fight you to hell and back, don't even think about bringing this crap up again. If you think I'm so awful, why didn't you try to stop me from moving?"

"We tried and – "

"No, you didn't! And you never said I shouldn't be raising my OWN daughter. I'm a damn good mother! And you know what? These past days at the Hummels have been wonderful! Abby has smiled, laughed and played with other kids like the _normal child_ you yearn for. I thought you were on my side. I'm glad your true colors came out."

Carter cleared his throat, holding up his hands.

"Calm down, we know you mean well. We are on your side, but Abby is the same, still not speaking, only nodding. Mercedes, look at her, for God sakes, you can't let this go on."

"I don't know what you see when you look at your granddaughter, but I'll tell you what I see. I see a little girl with a big heart, beautiful smile, and loving compassion for others. I see a child who survives everyday, manages to get straight As, and misses her father like crazy, yet she gets up in the morning and faces a world that doesn't always understand her or even wants to, and you judge her, and me, hollering about normal and abnormal. I see her getting better, it may not be at the speed you want, but it's happening slowly."

"Exactly who are those people she's with?" Pauline asked, pursing her maroon lips.

"They're fine people, my landlord's family. I thought I told you."

"You only said they were new friends. Why would your landlord invite you to spend Christmas with his family?"

Mercedes shook her head, suddenly feeling weary.

"He's my friend. He thought it would be good for us."

"Sounds to me like it might be more than a friend and so soon after Shane?"

Carter touched his wife's arm.

"Pauline, now stop, you're saying stuff, that you shouldn't be saying – "

"I'm saying how I feel."

"I don't think there's any point to this conversation anymore," Mercedes said, "I know you love Abby. I'm doing what's best for her. But, let me make this crystal clear, SHE WILL NEVER LIVE WITH YOU as long as I am alive and kicking. Any notion you have of taking her will be met with my wrath. We've had our differences in the past, but I never thought you would say what you did to me today. I'm not cutting you out of my life. I would prefer that you not contact me for a while. I need this distance. Do you understand?"

They nodded and said terse good-byes. After she logged off, Mercedes broke down into tears.

"Mercedes?"

She looked up and saw Sam.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

Mercedes wanted to tell him everything about that happened, but the words couldn't come out, she only sobbed.

"They want to take her from me…"

Sam sat down beside her and hugged her as she cried, asking no questions, only holding her.

"I'll fight them. I'll fight them all, you'll see. Nobody can take my baby away. I lost Shane, I can't lose her too. I'll fight with everything I am."

Sam listened to her incoherent rant until she calmed down and he said:

"I know Abby is sleeping. Let's go into my room."

He helped her off the floor and guided her to his room.

"I think you should lie down," he said, leading her to his bed.

She lied on the bed, curling up into a ball.

"I'm strong," she whispered.

He lied down beside her, spooning her from behind, he put his arm around her waist, resting his hand on her soft belly, while his other hand stroked her hair.

"You're also human," he said.

He kissed the top of her head. Mercedes was aware of his body, all hard muscular planes, sleek and lean, holding her with all his strength. She continued to cry in soft whimpers, until she just couldn't any more, and her eyes closed. She fell asleep.

**ooo**

When she woke up, Sam was still holding her, lightly snoring into her hair. Blue twilight filled the room. She moved, trying to free herself from his tight grasp.

"Sam?"

"Hmm, sweetheart?"

He awakened slowly, drool running out the side of his mouth that he quickly wiped away with a tissue lying on the nightstand, he touched her face.

"How do you feel?"

"Better."

He gave her a lopsided smile, though not as big as usual, and his eyes narrowed in concern:

"I don't exactly know what happened. But whatever you need me to do. I'll do."

Mercedes told him everything about her Skype conversation with Shane's parents. He listened, never once interrupting, when she was done, she said:

"When it comes to Abby, the Mama Bear in me is fierce. It's like I can't control it. They had no right to say those things. I thought we were in this together and they turn on me."

"What they said was pretty awful," Sam said, kissing her, "If it were my child, I would've reacted in the same way."

"I know they love Abby and they think what they're saying is in her best interest. But I'm the one that holds her through her fits and watches how she stumbles and rises everyday. Me. Not Aunt Josephine. Not Pauline or Carter. It's me. Coming here for Christmas has done so much good for her too."

"What are you going to do?"

Mercedes sniffed and looked at him.

"If they take legal action, I'll get a lawyer."

"Do you think it will come to that?"

"I don't know. Maybe not. I'm just planning my worse case scenario. They don't have a leg to stand on; I'm a great mom and person, I do right by my child."

Sam hugged her.

"You are a wonderful mom and person, and I'm honored and blessed to know you."

They kissed and Mercedes loved how his body pressed against hers, she ended up on her back with Sam on top of her. It felt so good that she wanted more, feel more, touch more… his hand slipped under her sweatshirt stroking the skin on her chubby belly, then roamed upward toward her breasts lightly tracing her hardened nipples pressing against the lace of her bra, when he gently pinched her large nub, she gasped. It was too soon for this, though her body said otherwise, she wanted to wait. She pushed him away slowly, catching her breath.

"We have to stop."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to –"

"No, it's nothing you did. I participated too, but my emotions are all over the place, and when I give myself to you I want to feel settled and at peace."

"You're right, this isn't a good time."

Someone knocked on the door. Sam kissed Mercedes and then went to open it. It was Finn.

"Hey, um, sorry to interrupt, but uh, dinner is ready."

Mercedes stood up and walked over to the doorway.

"Where's Abby?" she asked.

"Downstairs in the dining room with everybody else," Finn said, "We're starving so…"

"Don't worry, we'll be done in a minute," Sam said.

Finn smiled at them and left.

"You don't think he thought we were… you know," Mercedes said, faltering with her words.

"We were kind of fooling around," Sam said, raising his eyebrows Groucho Marx style.

Mercedes kissed his cheek.

"Come on, let's go eat."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

She nodded.

"Yes, and besides, I want to see Abby."

"I meant what I said about helping you in anyway I can," he said, hugging her.

"I know and I appreciate it."

"Good. Now let's go feast on Gefüllte Weihnachtsgans."

"Translation?"

"Stuffed Christmas Goose."

"I've never eaten much German food," Mercedes said as he took her by the hand and led her out of the room.

"We like to do a German feast after Christmas to remember our grandparents and honor our family, December 26th is Grandpa Hummel's birthday."

"That's great to have a family tradition."

Sam squeezed her hand and together they went downstairs.

**ooo**

Mercedes loved how they set the table, it was covered in a heavy gold tapestry tablecloth embroidered with the Hummel Family Crest, which was a shield with three silver bees running diagonally across a yellow ribbon and the helm of a suit of armor positioned at the top of the shield surrounded by long, silver and gold leaves, and above this design was a gold ribbon with the surname Hummel stitched across it in large, black Old English letters. A porcelain angel doll, with gold tipped white wings, pink cheeks, silver eyes and long, blonde hair, wearing a long golden gown, and a gold crown upon her head was the centerpiece. Sam said the tablecloth and angel doll were brought over from Germany when his grandparents immigrated to the US. White china plates with gold rims and water glasses with the Hummel Family Crest were in front of each seat. Everyone clapped when they entered the room.

"It's about time," Stevie said, "I thought Finn was gonna eat the table."

Mercedes and Sam sat in the empty chairs next to Abby, who smiled at them.

"Hey, sweetie," Mercedes said, kissing her forehead, "Are you hungry?"

Maggie nodded and pointed to the roast goose, all brown and juicy, spread out on a gold platter. Burt stood in front of the goose, with the carving knife in his hand. Once they were seated, the family held hands and after saying grace, he began cutting into the succulent bird, filled with oranges, apples and onions. Just as Christmas dinner had been, there was lots of food. Sweet and sour shredded purple cabbage, or rotkohl as Sam called it, cooked with butter, vinegar, sugar and salt was in a big, golden bowl, and had a lovely tangy sweet flavor. A large pot of kartoffelkloesse, German potato dumplings, seasoned with a hint of nutmeg and salt, tasted so good that the pot was gone by the second pass around the table.

Mercedes didn't expect to like the spinach salad with hot bacon dressing as much as she did, but she loved the sweet, salty, flavor of the dressing made of red wine vinegar, bacon, and sugar; and it went well with the fresh spinach. As they did the previous night, she and Sam ate off each other's plates, it was so natural that she thought nothing of stealing the last dumpling off his plate when he wasn't looking. Then in retaliation, he took the last potato fritter with applesauce from her plate while she poured Abby a glass of water. When she resumed eating, and found it gone she said:

"Hey, you ate my reibekuchen!"

"You pronounced that well, and I only told you once," Sam said as he swallowed the last bite of the crispy brown fritter and sweet, cinnamon-spiced applesauce made fresh that morning with the local orchard's apples, Mercedes watched him, shaking her head, and Finn, being a gentleman offered her his fritter.

"Don't give it to her, Finn," Sam said, "That's what she gets for stealing my dumpling."

Mercedes playfully swatted him.

"Don't be mad, because I have dumpling stealing skills."

She and Finn ended up splitting the fritter and the remaining applesauce.

"Do I have to put you two in a time-out?" Stacey said from the other end of the table, as she helped herself to the steaming pot of goulash.

"We're good, Stacey," Mercedes said, while Sam, kissed her cheek.

"I should say that you are."

The roast goose was nice and crisp on the outside, and tender on the inside, just as it should be. During dinner, Rachel, Stacey and Helen, grilled Mercedes about the date since they were all busy that day and they hadn't seen each other. Mercedes indulged them only so much, leaving out the intimate sharing that she and Sam experienced. Stacey said the G-rated version of events were as exciting as a root canal which made everyone laugh.

After the men cleared away the dinner dishes, they brought out dessert: decorated gingerbread hearts wrapped in plastic, a butterkuchen, which Sam explained was a butter cake usually eaten with tea, and apple strudel. The children drank milk while the adults sipped on mugs of gluhwein, a hot, sweet, red wine mixed with sugar, lemon and orange juice, cinnamon, cardamom, and cloves. Stacey made it and she said it would make everyone warm and toasty and it did. Since the snowstorm didn't' end until nightfall nobody was driving back that night; and Mercedes was glad because the food, wine, and icy roads did not make for a safe journey home.

The men presented the hearts to their wives, husband, children, mother and sister. Sam gave a big gingerbread heart decorated with blue icing with a picture of an angel, and underneath it said, "To My Blue Angel, Mercedes." He placed it around her neck, kissing her cheek, and Mercedes kissed him on the lips.

"Thank you."

"You looked like an angel in that dress. Not some damn bird."

Mercedes laughed.

"Samuel Hummel, you're still mad about that?"

He pouted a little, looking so adorable that she kissed him again.

"Do you see any foreign waiters here?"

"I know it's silly."

"I think it's sweet."

Mercedes loved the gingerbread heart he made for Abby. He decorated it with pink icing and drew pictures of different tools, and her heart said, "To Abby, My Little Helper." Abby grinned as he put it around her neck. She gave him a hug and showed it to Lucy who marveled at how well her Uncle Sam decorated her heart. Mercedes looked over and saw Kurt kissing Blaine as he fed, Carrie her bottle, a heart decorated with green icing hung around his neck. Stacey examined the hearts from each of her brothers and father, critiquing each one in a joking manner, but Mercedes could see that she was touched.

Then she noticed a gold platter of hearts, arranged in a neat, straight line, placed next to the angel.

"Who are those for?" She asked Sam.

"Remember how I said this was also for those who died?"

"Yes."

"Well, those are their hearts."

Mercedes moved down the table to get a closer look. She read the names of each of his deceased relatives. Each one was decorated with a different color icing, some of the expressions written on their hearts were in German, and others simply stated the person's name. Then she saw something that shocked her, and it warmed her heart too. Sam had baked a gingerbread heart for Shane; it was decorated with plain white frosting and Sam wrote Shane's name in cursive script across the middle of the heart. She leaned over and picked it up. When she got back to her seat, Sam sat there watching her.

"I wasn't sure if I should so –"

Mercedes held Shane's heart in her hand and kissed Sam.

"You're wonderful. Thank you."

Abby was with the other children at the opposite end of the table, taking off the plastic wrap from the hearts and sinking their little teeth into the rich gingerbread. Mercedes lay her head on Sam's shoulder, and he put his arm around her, kissing her forehead.

**ooo**

That night as Mercedes lay in bed, with Abby sound asleep beside her, she said a gratitude prayer. She knew she had to take each day as it comes, despite the setbacks, and she wouldn't let the dark cloud that was cast on her spirit that day, make her forget how beautiful life could be.

* * *

><p><strong>END NOTES<strong>

Thank you for reading and reviewing!


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

**SUMMARY: **Mercedes visits Dr. Santana Lopez, hoping to help Abby; Sam and Quinn have an argument about her brother; Mercedes and Sam grow closer

**RATING: **Teen

**WARNING:** Cursing, transphobic language

* * *

><p><strong><em>FINDING LOST VOICES<em>**

"She never speaks at all?" Dr. Lopez asked Mercedes. It was a cold, gray Saturday morning, and while Sam and Abby sat in the waiting room playing tic tac toe on Abby's notepad, Mercedes met with the therapist separately in her office. A sandalwood scented candle burned on the windowsill, and the aroma calmed Mercedes, she bit her bottom lip and looked into Dr. Lopez's dark eyes.

"Yes. Not at home or at school."

"Not even to you when you are alone?"

Mercedes shook her head, focusing on the large black and white poster that hung beside the window. It showed a group of Latino children playing in front of a fire hydrant that gushed streams of foamy water into the pot-hole filled street, the little girls wore white communion dresses and the boys wore dark suits, they all laughed and smiled as their clothes were soaked. It reminded her of Lima Heights, an area with a high Latino population, where she used to volunteer at the Youth Center on the weekends. She recalled how she, Shane and Abby spent many afternoons playing softball in the nearby park with the kids or going on field trips to local museums and libraries. Shane even tried to learn Spanish.

_"__Uno, dos, tres.." Shane said, while driving one sunny afternoon, with the windows rolled down, and the fresh summer air, filling the car, "What's next baby girl?"_

_"__Cuatro," Abby said from the back seat, her neon pink sunglasses, were perched at the end of her button nose._

_"__Very good. See there, we're speaking Spanish," he said to Mercedes, who sat beside him, "I'm getting it."_

_"__You're counting. You need to, you know, have conversations, too," she said, smiling at him, and squeezing his big, muscular arm. He wore a red wife beater and her name, along with Abby's were tattooed on his bicep in black cursive letters, and whenever he flexed his muscles, the letters would stretch like silly puddy. "You have a long way to go."_

_"__One thing at a time, baby, one thing at a time."_

_Her fingers traced the tattoo, following the pattern of the letters._

_"__Cinco," she said._

_Shane glanced over at her._

_"__Seis."_

Suddenly, she felt somebody rubbing her arm, and shoving a box of tissue in her hands.

"Here."

Mercedes didn't realize she was crying. She wiped her tears and looked down at Dr. Lopez who knelt beside her chair.

"I remembered something."

"Does the poster upset you?"

"It made me remember stuff."

"So it was a trigger?"

"Yes."

Santana stood up and returned to her seat behind her black wooden desk.

"It's strange that Abby doesn't speak to you even when the two of you are alone. In the mutism cases that I've encountered, the child will at least speak in certain settings like at home or only with a few close relatives."

"I've heard that before. But Abby is different. Dr. Lopez, can you help us?" Mercedes said, not caring about her past patients but only her daughter, "I've been to so many therapists and none of them worked out. To be frank, Abby hated them."

"Call me Santana."

"Alright."

"And to answer your question, I'll do my best to help you. Why didn't she like the other therapists?"

Mercedes sighed, glancing down at her hands.

"I don't know. She was unresponsive. Wouldn't look them in the eye. They told me to wait it out."

Santana nodded and wrote a few notes on her yellow legal pad.

"Is Sam your boyfriend?"

"He's… well, we're seeing each other," Mercedes said

"You sound uncertain."

Mercedes wiped her eyes.

"I don't mean to be. It's still new. But we have deep feelings for each other and he cares for Abby and wants her to get well." It had been a month since she and Sam had started dating; and she didn't want to label it yet. Santana nodded and kept writing notes.

"I see. How does Abby feel about him?"

"Why the interest in Sam?"

Santana put down her pen and leaned back in her black leather chair.

"I want to get a sense of how this new relationship is working for you and Abby."

"Sam has been nothing but kind, loving, and supportive. Abby adores him."

"Ok, are you available for an appointment later this week?"

"Yes, I can bring Abby in at any time."

Santana shook her head, and flipped her long, black hair over her shoulder. She was a stunning woman with olive skin and ruby red lips; she wore a red blouse and a straight black skirt that complimented her lithe figure. With her height, features, and thin frame, she could've been a model.

"I want to see you first."

"But I need you to help Abby."

"You need therapy too."

"I know I've been sad at times but –"

"Sad? I'd say you had depression among other things. You and your daughter are feeding off each other's energy. It's like you when you get a cold but neither of you takes medicine so you keep giving each other the same cold. We'll make 2 appointments for Friday. I'm open late so, how about you come here at 5:00 for your session and then Abby's session can be at 6:00."

"Are you saying I'm making Abby sick?"

"Yes."

Mercedes got angry.

"I would never hurt Abby."

Santana remained calm as if she's been through this a thousand times before.

"It's not intentional. You focus so much on getting help for others that you fail to see you need help for yourself. You're a classic giver. You need to be selfish. Fill up your own tank of gas before offering rides."

Mercedes stood up, suddenly wanting to leave.

"Thank you for your time."

"Sit down."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Mercedes stood for a second longer and then sat down again. Santana closed her legal pad and recapped her pen. She stared at Mercedes and said:

"I know you love Abby. But neglecting your own emotional pain makes things worse. Children pick up on everything. And from what I've observed of her, she's a very sensitive little girl."

"I know she is."

"And so are you."

"Is there anything else?"

"I'm not out to get you, Mercedes. But you need to admit that you need help too. Your grief is overwhelming."

"I manage."

"How is that working for you?"

Mercedes was tired. Her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes.

"I miss her voice."

"I'll do my best to get it back," Santana said, "Yours and hers."

* * *

><p><strong><em>THE WAY WE LOVE<em>**

As Sam drove them home, Mercedes was quiet. She stared out the window as the radio played Melvin and the Blue Notes. It began to rain. When they got home, he followed them upstairs and made tea while Abby went to her room for a nap. Mercedes changed into sweats and pulled back her hair. After Sam gave her the hot mug of lavender green tea, he went into the bedroom and changed into his plaid pajama bottoms and a faded blue Avatar t-shirt. He sat down beside Mercedes on the couch, picked up his mug of tea from the coffee table, and placed his arm around her. They sat in silence, sipping their hot drinks, and listening to the rainfall. When they were finished, he took the mugs into the kitchen, and came back to the living room, reaching out his hand, he helped her off the couch, and with their arms wrapped around each other; they went to her bedroom.

Sam picked up the two big white jar candles that sat on her dresser and placed them on the floor near the foot of her bed, then he got two bright red zabutons out of her closet and put them on the floor too. They each sat down on a zabuton, facing each other, legs crossed and knees touching. Sam lit the candles. They sat there staring into each other's eyes, not speaking, only gazing; though she was clothed, Mercedes felt bare and almost looked away, but Sam's gentle gaze anchored her and she loved how his green eyes glowed and she let herself get lost, allowing him to look inside her.

They continued sitting in silence, holding each other's gaze, until Sam leaned forward, touching his forehead against hers, and together they breathed in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, in synch with each other, and for several minutes, they breathed together, inhaling and exhaling, and Mercedes cried, her tears slipping down her cheeks, but the breathing continued, and it calmed her, how rooted they were in each other's space. They pulled away from each other, and Sam's eyes dropped to her belly, watching how she took in each breath and she did the same with him. After a few moments, they shifted their gazes from the other's belly to their eyes again. She imagined the stages of Sam's life, from a happy, chubby baby with floppy blonde hair, to a mischievous toddler, pulling on his mother's dress, to a curious boy climbing trees with his siblings, and then a sullen teenager trying to fit in with the status quo of a small town, and finally the images changed into the man that sat before her, breathing with her in that silent room, the candlelight shining in his eyes. She leaned over and placed her hand on his heart, feeling it beat beneath her palm. His heartbeat was strong and steady, and she imagined how hard it worked to keep Sam alive, because he gave himself fully to everything he did; he was so open and giving, and this amazed her; she smiled, feeling blessed that he was in her life. Sam placed his hand over hers, and smiled back. He put his other hand over her heart as well, pressing it against her chest. They felt the rhythm of each other's heartbeats, until Mercedes felt overwhelmed, and she gently broke away, needing to collect her emotions. While she regrouped, Sam blew out the candles and returned them to the dresser. He sat down on the zabuton again, waiting for her, not invading her space, but hovering close enough so that she could reach out to him if needed, Mercedes closed her eyes, feeling all the light and love they produced while delving into that non-physical space of connection. She took several deep breaths, her body processing all that she felt, and though Sam wasn't touching her, she felt him. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Sam stared at her, and she reached over and squeezed his hand. He helped her off the floor and pointed to the bed, and she nodded. He pulled back the heavy comforter, and she got in under the covers, and Sam got in as well, embracing her from behind, his body molding into hers. Their connection was so great that she wondered if they would share each other's dreams as they fell asleep to the sound of the rainfall pattering against the window.

**ooo**

Sam woke up first. He had to go to the bathroom, but hated to leave the warmth of the bed and the softness of his woman's body's filling his arms. _His woman… _that's how he saw Mercedes. He knew in actuality that as human beings, no one belonged to anybody, yet this belief was tossed aside every moment he spent with her. Acting on his possessiveness, he fell into caveman mode and she was his woman, and he liked to think that he was her man. Sam spent the night a few times a week, though they still hadn't slept together, he felt more intimate with her than any woman he had been with previously. Yes, he became aroused, what man wouldn't be aroused by her bountiful body and kind spirit, but he also knew how vulnerable she was, and he would never risk sleeping with her too soon and threaten the bond they shared. His shaving cream, deodorant, and toothpaste were in her bathroom cabinet and some of his flannel shirts hung in her closet. He sighed and pushed back the covers, kissed Mercedes' forehead, and left the bed. While he was in the bathroom, he thought about what they shared earlier that afternoon.

Since sex was off the table for now, they found other forms of intimacy. He researched non-sexual intimacy online and found different cuddle positions and other exercises that allowed them to express their feelings for one another. And there was nothing wrong with good old-fashioned kissing, which they enjoyed daily. Artie gave him lots of brownie points for this, but Sam wasn't looking for a pat on the head, he truly wanted to connect with Mercedes in a manner that was comfortable for her. Whenever they went out, Sam made it a point to hold her hand, letting the world know that they were indeed together; killing any doubts that some people, especially women, may have about their relationship. Sam was used to women flirting with him, because as Finn put it, he had that all-American, muscular, good ol' boy look. He could admit that he used it to his advantage when he wanted something, but now that he had Mercedes he kept the female admirers at bay.

After he was finished in the bathroom, he went to check on Abby, and found her in the living room, putting together the dollhouse that Mercedes bought her for Christmas. It was a kit that was meant for a much older child or even an adult, but Abby's natural mechanical abilities, allowed her to put it together with ease; it was a rather large house, and everyday, she worked on it. Right now she was screwing on one of the bright green window shutters. She looked up and saw Sam and smiled. Sam smiled back and leaned down, giving her a brief hug. He glanced out the window and saw the rain had finally stopped; it was getting dark and the sky was fading into smoky blue twilight. Sam went into the kitchen to make dinner. As he took the left over roast chicken out of the fridge to make chicken soup, the main front door buzzed. He went downstairs to see who it was, and when he looked through the peephole, he was surprised to see Ryder Fabray standing on his doorstep. He opened the door, smiling at his friend.

"Ryder, good to see you!"

"I'm sorry to come by without calling."

Sam looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"You're family."

Ryder raised his eyebrows.

"I am?"

"You know what I mean," Sam said, pulling him inside. He and Ryder became friends while he was dating Quinn. It was so odd how different she was to her younger brother, who was more down to earth and caring. Sometimes Sam secretly wondered if Ryder was adopted because he looked nothing like the blonde and blue Fabray clan, with his dark hair and eyes. Sam hadn't seen Ryder since he moved to New York a year ago with his current girlfriend, a transgendered female singer named Unique, and whom his family had difficulty accepting, causing a rift in his relationship with them. Even though, he and Quinn were divorced, Sam still regarded Ryder as a brother, he missed him when he moved away, but understood that New York was where he and Unique needed to be. Closing the door, Sam said:

"So you're in town visiting?"

"I guess you could call it that."

"Mending fences?"

Ryder nodded.

"Trying too. Unique couldn't come. So I faced them alone."

"Sounds fun."

"Brutal is more like it."

"Come on upstairs, I'm making dinner, you're more than welcome to join us."

"Are you sure? I mean, I can wait down here in your apartment until you're done. I feel funny barging in on your time with your girlfriend. Besides, I want to talk to you alone, anyway."

At first Sam was going to protest, but then he thought about Abby and her sensitivity to strangers; though she instantly warmed up to his family, she still had reservations about meeting new people. He was sure Mercedes wouldn't mind, but after today's intense intimacy, she may want to cuddle with him for a while and those were very private moments.

"You have a point. I'll let you inside my apartment. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. George and Gracie will like the company. I'll be down in a few hours."

"Take your time. I had to get away from my family. It'll do me some good to unwind by myself."

Sam unlocked the door and waved Ryder inside.

"I'll see you in a bit."

**ooo**

Mercedes loved the chicken soup that Sam made for dinner. He used all of the leftover chicken and vegetables from the previous night's meal. The rich, yellow broth was flavored with fresh rosemary, thyme and sage. The diced red bliss potatoes also added to the robust flavor.

"Only you can make leftovers taste this good," she said, helping herself to another bowl of soup.

Abby nodded in agreement as she ate the hot soup. The oven chimed and Sam got up from the table and took out a cookie sheet filled with golden brown buttermilk biscuits.

"I'll let these cool down and then I'll put them on the table," he said.

Mercedes watched him move about the kitchen. She was glad when he told her that when his friend Ryder dropped by that he decided to chill in Sam's apartment rather than coming upstairs; Mercedes needed to be with Sam and Abby alone that evening; though she couldn't explain why. She also wasn't eager to meet a sibling of Quinn's; despite what Sam said about him being different from his ex-wife. When he sat down again, she squeezed his hand.

"Thank you so much for making dinner."

"You've had a lot on your plate lately, it's the least I could do."

"That I have," she said thinking of the upcoming therapy sessions. As if reading her mind, Sam said:

"I think you're on the right track with Santana."

"You do?"

"Yes, and I'll help anyway I can."

Mercedes leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you."

After they ate the rich soup and flaky, buttered biscuits, they had warm homemade apple crisp with plump golden raisins and Vietnamese cinnamon topped with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream for dessert. When dinner was over, Abby went to take her bath and brush her teeth, while Mercedes and Sam cleaned up the kitchen. Once the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, Sam hugged Merecedes, and kissed her, his hands roaming up and down her back, gently squeezing the cheeks of her gorgeous posterior. Mercedes moaned when he fastened his plump lips to her neck, sucking and nibbling on her soft flesh, he then ran his big hands through her hair, tugging at her long locks.

"Don't ever cut your hair," he murmured, slowly pulling away from her and kissing every inch of her round, flushed, face.

Mercedes tightened her hold around his waist, looking up at him.

"If it means that much to you, I won't."

They hugged each other tight and went to the living room. Sam sat down on the couch, and Mercedes lied down, placing her head in his lap, and as he stroked her hair, his fingertips massaging her scalp, they watched the evening news. Every so often, Sam lifted her hand and kissed it. When the news was over, he caressed her cheek and said:

"What is it?"

"Santana said I had to admit that I needed help."

"I never thought I needed therapy either."

"Really?"

"It wasn't until Finn pointed out to me that showering wasn't optional."

Mercedes laughed.

"Huh?"

"I wasn't showering or taking care of myself, but I felt like it was normal, you know? I rarely left the house. I stopped answering the phone. All I did was listen to records. That felt normal to me. But it wasn't."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I was in bad shape. But I didn't know how bad it was because I was in it."

Mercedes nodded.

"I think I understand," she said as she sat up and kissed his full lips, "You better go downstairs. I'm sure Ryder is anxious to visit with you."

"Are you sure? I can stay longer if you like."

"I'm fine. I'm going to sit here and read Jane Eyre."

Sam hugged her.

"I'll come back, ok?"

"Ok."

Mercedes liked it when he spent the night, she loved snuggling up to him, and Sam told her that holding her while he slept calmed him in ways that medication never could. They kissed once more and he went downstairs to his apartment.

**ooo**

Sam found Ryder in his living room drinking a beer and watching an old zombie flick on the classic movie channel. Ryder looked up from the couch and smiled.

"Hey man, how was dinner?"

"Awesome."

"I want to meet this woman that has you all turned inside out."

"You will."

"Mercedes, right?"

"Yeah, that's her name."

"Our Lady of Mercy. Is she Catholic?"

Sam sat down beside Ryder on the couch.

"No, she's named after Mercedes Ruehl."

"Cool."

Sam picked up the remote off of the floor and turned down the volume.

"So, how's life in New York?"

Ryder shrugged and took a drink of beer.

"It's hard. With all those people you can still feel alone. We gets homesick sometimes."

"Any chance of you moving back here?"

"No, I can't be that close to my family. Especially with how they treat Unique."

Sam couldn't imagine his parents ever being disrespectful of anyone he chose to love, unless that person did something inexcusable, they accepted his choices. The Fabrays were more controlling.

"I wish I could help."

"Thanks, man. Anyway, I'll figure it out. But I have good news."

"What is it?"

Ryder slapped Sam's shoulder.

"We're getting married."

"That's great, when?"

"This summer. The wedding will be in Vermont. We're keeping it small, and I would love for you to be my best man. So will you do it?"

"Of course, I will," Sam said, giving Ryder a hug, "This is awesome news."

"You accepted Unique and I'll always be grateful for that."

Suddenly the door buzzed. Sam left the apartment to answer it. He looked through the peephole and saw Quinn standing on his doorstep in a pastel pink coat, her arms folded and her long blonde hair was windblown. Sam opened the door.

"Hi Quinn."

"I want to speak with my brother," she said, pushing past Sam, "I know he's here because his car is parked out front."

"I'm fine, thank you and how are you?"

Quinn side-eyed him.

"Just get Ryder."

"No."

"I take it you heard his so-called good news?"

"Yes."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Move."

"He doesn't want to talk to you."

"But Mom and Dad are upset after his little bombshell tonight. I have to fix this."

"You can fix it by leaving."

"No, I can fix it by talking to him."

Quinn attempted to push him aside, but Sam blocked her path to his door.

"It's his choice."

"I don't want him throwing away everything for some gender confused hussy, who's only after his money."

"They love each other."

"You're so naieve."

"How?"

"You think everyone is good."

"I never thought you were," Sam said, knowing full well he was lying, but wanted to insult her out of spite.

"But you married me anyway!"

His apartment door opened and Ryder walked out into the hallway.

"Quinn, please leave. I don't have anything to say to you."

"How could you even think that marrying Unique is a good idea?"

"Because I love her."

"Why?"

"She's special."

"Yeah, like reality show special."

"All you do is insult her. Have you even had a conversation with her?"

Quinn looked down at the floor for a moment then gazed up at Ryder.

"I'm only looking out for you."

"You're looking out for my inheritance."

Quinn grabbed his hand.

"You're making a mistake."

"I'm marrying Unique."

She turned to Sam.

"You did this. You always encourage him," she said and mimicked Sam's voice, "Ryder drop out of MIT, and go live in a commune in California."

"I never said that," Sam said, glaring at her, "You always twist shit to suit you."

"I'm not twisting anything! He listens to every stupid thing you say!"

"Because I listen to him!"

"Thank God we never had kids, you would've been stuck on stupid, letting them run amok."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sam said.

"You influence him. I thought that would change after the divorce, but you still have this hold over him."

"He doesn't influence me. I have my own mind," Ryder said, "I know you have good intentions buried somewhere, but you have no right to tell me whom I should marry. Now go. I cant' talk to you when you're acting like this."

"You're marrying a chick with a dick. How am I supposed to act?"

Ryder grabbed Quinn by the shoulders, shaking her a little. Sam never thought that he would hurt his sister, but he worried about her unborn child. He rubbed Ryder's back.

"Dude, come on, calm down, please. I agree she's wrong but –"

Ryder ignored him and said to Quinn:

"I never want to see you again."

"Misha, don't, I'm sorry I didn't mean –"

Sam knew Quinn was scared because she called Ryder by his nickname.

"Don't start with that Misha stuff," Ryder said, removing his hands from her shoulders, and backing away from her. "It won't work."

Quinn touched his cheek.

"I love you."

"Go," he said and went inside the apartment.

Quinn hung her head as Sam guided her down the hall to the front door. When they got to the door, she looked up at him:

"This is your fault."

"Quinn – "

"He'll regret it."

"Why don't you live your own life instead of controlling everyone else's?"

"I've always protected him."

"Maybe it's time you stopped."

Quinn put her hand on her belly, rubbing it a little. Sam averted his eyes.

"It's late," he said, reaching for the doorknob.

"But I don't want to be alone right now."

"What about Will?"

"He's in London."

"I can't help you."

"Is this your revenge?"

"Good night, Quinn"

"Go for a drive with me."

"No."

She placed her hand firmly on his chest, pressing her palm against his heart, as if she were trying to reach inside him, and he smelled her lilac perfume, "We can go to Smiley's," she said, "Get root beer floats like we used to."

Sam removed her hand, backing away from her.

"Please leave."

"I'm sorry for what I said about having kids with you. I was angry. I didn't mean it."

"Apology accepted."

Quinn moved closer to him.

"I need someone to talk to."

Sam shook his head, opening the front door, and the cold winter air blew into the foyer.

"I'm not that someone."

"You used to be."

"Goodnight, Quinn."

"But I don't know what to do about Ryder."

"Yes you do."

She reached for his hand, but he pulled away, and Sam saw the desperation in her crystal blue eyes.

"He's all I have. If you could convince him - "

"I'm not convincing him of anything."

The wind blew Quinn's hair, fluttering it about like a curtain. She tightened the belt on her coat, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"I heard Lucky on the radio the other day."

"So?" Sam said, leaning against the door.

A few tears fell onto her reddened cheeks.

"Did you erase everything? That was our song."

Sam felt a measure of pity for her, but not enough to console her. No amount of tears or walks down memory lane could diminish the pain they caused each other. The wounds were still fresh, and when he grew stronger, he may change his mind but now, he was a work in progress, and he hadn't reached that level of forgiveness.

"I can't do this," he said.

"But I still –" she began to say and stopped in mid-sentence, staring at him.

Sam stared back at her.

"No, Quinn."

She walked out the door, slamming it behind her. Then Sam heard Mercedes' voice:

"Sam?"

He turned around and saw her standing at the top of the stairs, her hair was wrapped up in a purple scarf and she wore a white bathrobe.

"I heard yelling."

Sam walked up the stairs and pulled her in a hug.

"I'm sorry."

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah."

Mercedes held his hand.

"What happened?"

"They don't approve of Ryder's fiancé."

"Oh," Mercedes said.

"I'm going to tell Ryder he can spend the night in my apartment. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Alright," she said, kissing his cheek.

* * *

><p><strong><em>THE HEART IS SACRED<em>**

After Sam told Ryder he could stay at his place that night and showed him the guest bedroom, he returned to Mercedes' apartment and curled up with her in bed under the covers. Her orange flower nightlight glowed in the corner, reminding him of a tropical sunset.

"Why did you marry her?" Mercedes asked him, as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Huh?"

"You asked me about Shane."

Sam stroked her cheek.

"I know but…she wasn't always like that."

"What was she like?"

"Baby, please…"

"Really I want to know."

"Why?"

"Why did she ask you to go for a drive?"

Sam sat up.

"What? That's not - "

"I see how she looks at you."

"Cedes – "

"You can't see it. But I do."

"I don't love her any more."

Mercedes coaxed him onto his back and laid her head on his chest.

"Let's get some sleep."

"Tell me what's wrong."

"She still loves you. And can you honestly say that you haven't fantasized about getting back with her?"

"I did in the beginning. But I don't anymore."

Mercedes hid her face in his chest, and he stroked her hair.

"You're the woman I want."

She nodded, remaining silent. He touched the side of her face.

"Cedes, look at me."

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and his heart broke.

"I've shared more with you than I have with any other woman. I love you. I love you so much it kills me inside. Do you understand? So whatever you're seeing is complete bullshit."

Sam surprised himself when he told her that he loved her. He hadn't planned on doing that for a while, but the words tumbled out, and he was relieved to lay all his cards on the table. Mercedes sat up and kissed him, her tears spilling onto his shoulder. Sam hugged her tight.

"What have I done to deserve you?" he whispered.

Mercedes stared at him, the orange glow of the nightlight shined in her eyes.

"I love you," she said.

Sam quietly rejoiced at her admission. They kissed until she pulled way, breathing hard, searching his eyes.

"When she touched your chest, that's what got me."

"I don't understand."

Mercedes sighed, glancing down at her hands.

"When we're together…" she stopped speaking, faltering with her words, "I feel you there."

Sam thought for a moment. Then he understood. That's where his heart was.

"It meant nothing."

"I know, but that's our way of connecting."

"Baby, I understand. It won't happen again."

Sam felt foolish for not realizing how that may have looked to Mercedes. For her it was the equivalent of watching them kiss or have sex. When they engaged in non-sexual intimacy, the touching of the heart was sacred, at least for them. Mercedes stroked his cheek.

"I'm not angry. It just caught me off guard."

"Did it make you doubt me?"

"No. You had nothing to do with her actions. But I'm curious about what your marriage was like."

Sam sighed thinking back on his years as Quinn Fabray's husband.

"My marriage had a lot of shouting and tears, with some sweet, tender moments mixed in. And since you wanted to know what she was like before, she was _a lot_ softer, still bold but soft, and though she always had a mouth on her, and that never changed, the way she used it did. But I'm not looking back. I'm moving forward with you."

Mercedes leaned down and kissed his heart and then kissed his lips. Sam reveled in the kiss, slipping his tongue through her luscious lips and into her sweet mouth, he knew when to stop, just short of his losing control. Mercedes had to be ready to go further and he sensed the time would come soon. When he felt his member growing harder, he gently broke the kiss, and pressed his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes, waiting as his breathing returned to normal. Once their hearts stopped racing, they snuggled together under the covers, and he held her in a protective embrace.

"Thank you, Lord for this woman," he whispered before falling asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>END NOTES:<strong> Thanks for reading and reviewing!


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